


Elemental

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3797446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking a break from Spies and Assassins and *tooning* to post another stand alone story with a different type of d'Artagnan.<br/>Humorous moments abound in this too.<br/>I hope you enjoy this.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Musketeer garrison_

“Sacre bleu!” Aramis exclaimed in disgust. “There it goes again!” Aramis watched as the wind carried his hat along the dirty ground for the third time in a row. After running after and capturing his headgear, Aramis re-joined his other brothers who were enjoying their breakfast even though he wasn’t.

Swiping his hat against his jacket a few times to knock off the dusty residue, Aramis kept mumbling to himself until d’Artagnan shoved a plate of scrambled eggs toward him. Grunting his thanks, Aramis dug into his meal.

“Funny thing that wind,” Porthos took a hot roll from the basket Serge just placed before them.

Looking up at the blue sky overhead, Athos squinted his eyes. “Not a rain cloud in sight. Indeed odd.” When his glance slid toward the boy, Athos paused in his musings. Observing the sly smile on d’Artagnan’s young face he wondered what was behind it. “What think you on the matter of the sudden breeze playing havoc with our poetic friend’s chapeau?”

“You think because I’m a farmer’s son I can explain away mother nature’s tricks?” d’Artagnan snorted as he placed a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

“Oh, let’s drop the matter and enjoy our food,” Aramis laughed. “Evidently God’s bored and decided to have some amusement at my expense.”

“Cause you were once gonna be a priest?” Porthos raised a brow in question. Highly doubting Aramis’ quip could have any truth in it.

Shrugging, Aramis simply continued eating.

“Captain Treville said to report to him as soon as we’re done,” d’Artagnan mumbled his way through his announcement due to a mouthful of food.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?” Aramis smiled at the wide brown eyes that flashed back at him.

Swallowing, d’Artagnan took a sip of some coffee. “Oui, they did,” he grinned. “I just never listened.”

“That’s the boy we all know and love,” Porthos chortled watching as Aramis’ head bobbed up and down in agreement.

“I could sympathize with your family as you grew up, d’Artagnan,” Athos commented,” as _listening_ is not one of your fortes.”

Leaning over, Porthos whispered in the lad’s ear. “Ya gonna let em’ get away with sayin’ that stuff?”

“Sure,” d’Artagnan wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Until the next time Athos has to teach me something.”

The whole table erupted in laughter making Serge wonder what was so funny as he came to collect their plates.

“The whelp’s right though,” Athos nodded to their youngest. “We’re to set out to Toulouse to escort a person of some import back to Paris to meet with the king. So Treville more than likely has some last minute instructions for us.”

“Another escort assignment,” Porthos grumbled and reached for another roll the same time d’Artagnan did. “It’s the last one, whelp,” his rough voice deepened.

“So?” d’Artagnan tilted his head watching his friend’s hand inch ever closer to the warm roll.

“I’m bigger than you,” Porthos huffed, “takes more than just one roll to keep me goin’.” Just as he reached out for the roll once more, that same gust of wind blew the basket off the table.

“Merde!” Porthos went after the basket but when he recovered it, found it empty.

What none of them saw was d’Artagnan quickly eating the last roll and then looking as innocent as a new born babe while Porthos plopped down unhappily beside him.

“Seems the wind’s fickle today,” Aramis snickered at his large friend, earning him a deep scowl for his efforts.

“Gentlemen,” Athos stood up, “since the wind is not done having its way with us, let’s go check with the captain to get our orders.”

++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

“Gents, you are to rendezvous with Comte Lohier Babineaux and escort him safely back to Paris,” Treville noted that his men all exchanged glances with one another. “Anything to add?” All four of them shook their heads in unison back at him. “Exellent! That’s what I like to hear.” Treville went back to studying a map he had spread out on his desk. Hearing the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat, he sighed and glanced back up to see none of them had left yet. “You can be on your way now,” he waved his hand toward the door and frowned when none of them budged from their spot.

Stepping forward, Athos peered at the captain from the relative safety of his hat. “Actually I do have a question.”

“Feel free to ask it then,” Treville rolled up his map and put it aside.

“Should we expect trouble on the way back once we meet up with the comte?”

“Normally I’d say no,” Treville tensed up slightly. “But you four attract trouble like bees to honey no matter what mission you are assigned,” he relaxed and chuckled as he saw his men's faces fall. “So with your luck I’d say it’s more than likely to happen.” Treville’s face turned suddenly serious. “Just be on your guard.”

“We will do our best, Captain,” Athos replied.

“See that you do,” Treville watched d’Artagnan’s nervous energy and hid a smile. “Better get out of here before the boy expires from boredom.”

Following Treville’s gaze, Athos had long ago understood that d’Artagnan had to constantly be in motion or would go stir crazy. “D’Artagnan, get our horses ready.” He shook his head at the speed the youngster lit out of the office. The lad nearly knocked Porthos and Aramis into each other in the process such was d'Artagnan's haste.

“Think the whelp will set a new record again?” Porthos laughed as he righted Aramis who nearly landed on his ass from their youngest’s charge out the door.

“While d’Artagnan’s tending to our horses let’s get our supplies in order,” Athos suggested, tipping his head at Treville before leaving.

++++

_Halfway to Toulouse_

By mutual agreement they chose a spot to take their rest that had a running stream nearby so that they could all cool off from the heat of the day. D’Artagnan settled back against the base of a tree munching on a crisp apple he had managed to coerce from Serge before leaving the garrison. While he enjoyed its juiciness, d’Artagnan observed Aramis bending over the stream splashing water on his face. This summer’s heat seemed to be unending as they had all felt the sun’s rays on their backs during their ride and in d’Artagnan’s case on his head as well since he refused to wear a hat.

Porthos and Athos were each eating a few wedges of cheese as they were nestled under the coziness of another tree close beside d’Artagnan’s spot, when they heard the unmistakable sounds of Aramis swearing. When they both turned their heads around it was to see a dripping Musketeer standing by the water’s edge.

“Fell in, did ya?” Porthos rumbled with laughter while Athos’ eyes crinkled in the corners, his lips twitching.

“I swear the elements are out to get me today,” Aramis was trying to dry himself off when d’Artagnan’s voice rang out.

“How did you manage to get soaked liked that?”

“When I stood up to leave to join you all in a snack,” Aramis threw his hands up in the air pointing toward the sky, “suddenly it was like the heaven’s opened up over only my head and I found myself drenched.”

“Whose husband did you cuckold this time?” d’Artagnan innocently asked as he took another bite from his apple. Surprising an odd look from Aramis’ wet face, d’Artagnan clarified his question. “I mean, God could be getting back at you.”

“Where da ya get some of those funny ideas from pup?” Porthos threw another towel over at Aramis since the one he was using now was thoroughly soaked, like the man himself was.

“Just saying,” d’Artagnan shrugged and closed his eyes, relaxing under the cool shade of nature’s shelter.

“Let’s be on our way,” Athos shot a wry look Aramis’ way. “It’s hot enough that Aramis can easily dry off in the saddle with no harm done.”

“Says you,” Aramis muttered but followed orders like the good soldier he was.

++++

_Toulouse_

Having met Babineaux at the comte’s estate, after a brief stay to refresh themselves, the Musketeers set off to head back to Paris.

When evening fell, Athos called a halt to their travels. “This area seems good enough as any to spend the night in.” Signaling to d’Artagnan he waited for the boy to come over. “Lad, how about starting a fire so we can heat up our provisions?”

“Why is it always me that gets the grunt work around here?” D’Artagnan’s annoyed tone did not fail to reach Comte Babineaux’s excellent hearing, as d’Artagnan was surprised at the comte’s obvious amusement.

“Whelp, do as I say,” Athos growled and made to swat at their youngest’s posterior but missed as the boy jumped safely out of his reach.

“A little young to be one of you, Monsieur Athos,” Babineaux remarked, still chuckling as he watched the boy march away to gather branches for their campfire.

“True, but d’Artagnan’s earned the right to be with us,” Athos replied, gazing after the indignant pup.

“I can’t ever remember being that young,” Babineaux mused.

“And I don't want ta remember,” Porthos commented while he dug out rations for their evening meal.

“D’Artagnan, you call that a fire?” Aramis teased as he stared down into the pitiful amount of smoke billowing up from the bark of the tree branches their young one had managed to set alight. Instantly flames leapt up so high that Aramis had to jump back several feet or risk getting singed or worse. Pushing his hat back from his head, Aramis studied the dancing firelight thoughtfully and glanced heavenward, shaking his head.

“You were saying, Aramis?” d’Artagnan grinned at his friend’s obvious discomfort. Who for once seemed lacking in words for the moment at least.

“Perhaps God is angered at my actions of late, especially those involving my latest tryst,” Aramis grumbled as he walked past the youngster but stopped to look earnestly at d’Artagnan. “You may have been correct in your earlier assessment, mon ami.”

“He must mean Giselle,” Porthos whispered to d'Artagnan after Aramis went to help Athos settle their horses.

“Another cuckold husband then?” d’Artagnan snorted, shaking his head ruefully. Aramis would never learn it seemed.

“Uh huh,” Porthos winked at the whelp and slapped him good naturedly on the back. “Now that the fire’s goin’ let’s heat our chow.”

It hadn’t escape Babineaux’s notice that when the flames grew high that d’Artagnan had focused intensely on the fire, wiggling a few fingers in the air when d'Artagnan felt himself unobserved. When d’Artagnan thought everyone abed Babineaux, always a light sleeper, observed the lad periodically concentrate on the campfire which seemed to blaze brighter into life every time. He wondered if the young man’s companions understood what the child was.

++++

_Next morning_

Arising early, preparations went swiftly and they were back on the road again. Several hours of hard travel later found them all overrun by malandrins out to steal whatever they could lay their hands on. These cut purses weren't put off in the slightest that they were attacking the King's Musketeers.

“D’Artagnan, guard the comte!” Athos hollered out to the boy as he engaged three of the malandrins himself.

“Monsieur,” d’Artagnan immediately went to Babineaux's side, “stay behind me at all times.”

“No place I’d rather be, child,” Babineaux responded smoothly but could see his words surprised d’Artagnan as the lad gave him a curious look.

Being a bystander was not exactly d’Artagnan’s vocation in life, so he chomped at the bit having to stand idly by while watching his brothers do all the work. But he noticed that Athos couldn’t see one of the canailles throw a dagger at his unprotected back. Knowing the comte was directly behind him, d’Artagnan risked all anyway or else Athos would be killed if he didn’t act fast. Raising his hand slightly, d’Artagnan closed his eyes and concentrated on the hurling dagger as it moved ever closer to its intended victim. The blade’s trajectory instantly changed and made a wide arc around Athos to fall harmlessly on the ground. Feeling breath tickle the back of his neck, d’Artagnan heard the comte’s soft voice in his ear.

“Excellent work, lad,” Babineaux congratulated. “Haven’t seen it done any better than that.”

Whipping his head around, d’Artagnan stared open mouthed in shock at the comte. Then quickly he wiped his face clean of all emotions. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t” Babineaux chuckled wryly. “Do not worry, son. Your secrets are safe with me. But I would think your comrades may not understand your reasons for keeping your abilities to yourself.”

Still not saying a word to the man, d’Artagnan watched as his friends dispatched their opponents quickly and efficiently.

“Nice workout,” Porthos grunted as he kicked out at one of the dead bodies in his way.

“I would have been quite happy without it,” Athos huffed, greatly irritated that their arrival back in Paris would be delayed even later because of this.

“I could do with an explanation or two though.” Aramis moved impatiently around several more dead bodies as he went to join his brothers.

“Huh?” Porthos gaze encountered Athos’ puzzled one and then shifted to d’Artagnan who instantly dropped his eyes to the ground.

“One of them threw a dagger straight at Athos’ back,” Aramis pointed out. “I was otherwise engaged and didn’t see it happening in time to shout a warning,” he stopped to take in a deep breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves at what could have happened to Athos. “Then to my utter amazement the dagger curved away from Athos at the last second as if guided by the hand of God.”

“Oh please,” Athos moaned, “don’t get all mystical on us.”

“A bad throw,” Porthos didn’t get whatever Aramis was hinting at. But his friend seemed greatly disturbed. “You’re bustin’ a gut holding somethin’ else back. Best now get it out before you blow up.”

“All those odd little things that kept happening to me lately and then seeing what nearly happened to Athos just now,” he scowled and crossed his arms. “I know something’s going on and I’m going to call our newest member on it,” Aramis pinned d’Artagnan with a hurt look of bewilderment. “I’ve heard of such things but thought they were fanciful tales made up to tell children at night when abed,” he gave d’Artagnan a sad smile. “Didn’t you feel safe enough in our company to tell any of us?” Perhaps Aramis shouldn’t be asking questions so freely about this with the comte standing so close to the boy, but he knew that Babineaux saw the exact same thing he did. There was no sense dressing it up as anything else.

“The captain knows,” d’Artagnan whispered, staring at the ground for fear of what he would read in the inseparable's faces, "since he knew me my whole life.”

“What the hell are you two goin' on over?” Porthos glared at both Aramis and the whelp, feeling he was missing out on something important.

“And whatever it is Aramis refers too,” Athos cold tone enveloped them all, “should we be discussing this in front of the comte?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, boys,” Babineaux laughed, greatly entertained by the suspense. “I’ve been in on this secret much longer than any of you.”

“Athos, the comte saw what happened,” Aramis said. “So I figured bringing it up now didn’t matter one way or the other.”

“Comte,” Athos glowered at the man’s serene features, “what do you know about this?”

“I will tell you later,” Babineaux chuckled at Athos exasperated face. “For now I am simply fascinated at the ongoing conversation.”

“Apologies to all of you,” d’Artagnan’s face filled with heat. “I was forbidden to tell any of you," his shoulders drooped as if weighed down by his thoughts. "Even if I had disobeyed my orders I would have been afraid that you would all treat me as an oddity if you knew.”

“Aramis has been _odd_ since the day I met em’,” Porthos grunted. “Ya don’t see me avoidin’ him cause of that imperfection,” he shot Aramis a crafty look, “one of many I might add.”

“How did we turn this around from d’Artagnan back to me?” Aramis focused on his friend’s amused features.

“D’Artagnan, please continue.” Athos ignored Aramis’ offended feelings and locked his eyes on their pup.

“I’m what’s known as an elemental,” d’Artagnan finally admitted. “I can manipulate air, water and fire quite easily.”

“So since it _was_ you all those times I'm disappointed to say the least,” Aramis pouted. “I mean, was that nice to do that to me?”

“Probably not, but it was fun to watch,” d’Artagnan’s eyes lit up at the memory of Aramis chasing after his runaway chapeau.

“He’s got that impish light back in his eyes,” Porthos grinned at the boy.

“Who trained you?” Athos was genuinely curious about d’Artagnan’s abilities. What the lad had was truly a gift from God.

“My maman was one and she taught me before she passed away at a very young age,” d’Artagnan’s eyes grew distant as he remembered how she patiently tried to teach his eager mind how to handle his gifts. “As I grew older my abilities grew stronger.”

“I too at first thought such things were childish stories totally made up,” Athos remarked gravely. “But I changed my tune when my father had brought an elemental home when I was but a petite garcon. I saw things I never dreamed a human being could do. But I thought that elementals died out long ago.”

“Not so much _died out_ as were murdered under the sentence of witchcraft,” d’Artagnan explained. “That’s why my parents taught me to be very careful when and where I practiced.”

“Is the captain one?” Aramis was caught off guard when Porthos punched him quite hard in the chest. “What was that for?”

“For thinkin’ the captain is an elemental,” Porthos snapped.

“Well, Treville hails from Gascony as does the lad,” Aramis sighed, “it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”

“Non, our captain is not one,” d’Artagnan shook his head, making his hair fly in his face. “Treville and my pe’re grew up together as you all know. It had been decided that when I came of age and traveled to Paris that the captain would help me train to become a Musketeer,” d’Artagnan became unnerved at how everyone had gone so quiet while he talked. “But because of what I can do Treville warned me that the king would have to be told first. That’s when His Majesty ordered myself and Treville not to utter this to a soul,” d’Artagnan hung his head down. “I wanted to tell all of you so very much that it was painful for me to hold all of this inside."

“If I may step in now,” Babineaux interrupted gently. “May as well let you gentlemen in on a small secret of mine,” he shot d’Artagnan a slightly amused look first, “and one of the reasons the king sent for me.” Babineaux raised his hand in the air, pointed it at Aramis and the next thing the Musketeer knew was that his dagger flew out of its sheath to dance in the air in front of him. “For you see... I am an elemental as well.”

“Mon dieu!” Athos didn’t know what to think on this anymore. Apparently these elementals were not entirely dead as he was led to believe.

“His Majesty was going to discuss with me how best I could serve France,” Babineaux smiled with great understanding into d’Artagnan’s cautious face. “I think I now know.”

The look the comte sent the boy was unmistakable, but Athos was still upset that Treville hadn’t trusted in them enough to tell them, despite the king's decree. Knowing d’Artagnan was under orders to not breathe a word of this to his friends had hurt the boy just as much. That type of pressure should never have been laid on the youngster's shoulders.

D’Artagnan knew that look Athos now wore and it didn't sit well with him. “I wish I had been honest with all of you right from the start."

"Whelp, if you'd gone against the king's wishes, there's no tellin' what His Majesty would have done," Porthos walked over to the boy and threw an arm around his shoulder.

"I agree," Aramis too went to stand beside their young one. "The king is a sovereign of many moods. So treading lightly as you have done serves you well, d'Artagnan."

Smiling at the praise he had just been given from his friend, d'Artagnan felt more at ease. Throwing a grateful look at his comrades, d'Artagnan felt Athos' hand touch his arm.

"I would know more of what you can do," Athos grinned and lowered his voice so Aramis wouldn't hear him. "Perhaps you could play more pranks on Aramis that the man would forget to go chasing after so many skirts."

Laughing freely, d'Artagnan caught Aramis staring thoughtfully at both himself and Athos. If he did as Athos suggested, d'Artagnan would have to be careful not to be seen or Aramis' vengeance would not be a pretty thing to behold.

“Ah! King Louis is not the weak-willed fool so many of his subjects believe him to be,” Babineaux chortled and settled a friendly hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. "He has plans for you and I, d'Artagnan."

“Sounds like things are gonna be a might more interestin’ about Paris now,” Porthos laughed loudly, throwing Aramis a quick wink.

“Just so long as our resident chiot doesn’t toss my hat in the wind again,” Aramis eyes twinkled in mirth.

“Or douse you with a waterfall again,” Athos’ amused voice added. Observing Comte Babineaux talking with ease to their youngest, Athos had to wonder what indeed the king had in mind for d’Artagnan's future. Whatever it was, Athos would make sure to give all his support to the boy as he has continually done.

“Hey!" Aramis watched as his hat flew off his head to roll on the ground, tumbling over and over again while he ran to catch it. Turning a fierce look on d’Artagnan, Aramis was about to rake him over the coals for this but was stopped at the look on the lad’s face.

Holding out his hands, d’Artagnan backed away from his angry friend. “It wasn’t me, Aramis. It wasn’t me... honest!”

All eyes then turned on Babineaux.

His own eyes sparkling in obvious enjoyment, Babineaux shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.”

The End


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who had wanted more.  
> Here is chapter 2.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace, King Louis’ state room_

“Perhaps tis not a bad idea for Athos, Porthos and Aramis to be privy to d’Artagnan’s unique abilities,” King Louis had just been apprised of the attack led by malandrins on the escort party for Comte Babineaux by Captain Treville. “They could help cover any slip ups that may occur along the way so no one else could become the wiser.”

“The lad is the real reason you had my men bring the comte back to the palace isn’t it?” Treville joined His Majesty in a glass of wine, looking down into the swirling liquid while awaiting his answer.

“D’Artagnan is young.” King Louis had thought upon this even before the boy had proven himself a fierce fighter, earning his pauldron at barely nineteen years of age and becoming his champion in the process. “Lohier was something of a well kept secret of my pe’re’s but had shared it with myself in case I would ever have need of the comte’s help.”

“And so that time is now at hand,” Treville nodded in confirmation. “D'Artagnan had told me himself on many occasions that there were times he didn’t have complete control over the elements and was afraid to even practice.”

“Well hopefully Lohier will prove himself more than capable of guiding d'Artagnan's abilities in the proper direction.” Finishing his own drink, King Louis walked over and joined Treville by the window. “Has Lohier settled in?”

“Oui,” Treville smiled. “I put him in the east wing.”

“Good, good,” King Louis was pleased. “I will talk with him at length very shortly and inform him of what needs to be done.”

“I believe Comte Babineaux has already guessed at Your Majesty’s intentions in that regard,” Treville pointed out dryly. "After all he had firsthand experience of what d'Artagnan could do while being brought here."

“Ah! Well then I won’t need to go into all the details with him as why this is so important to me and for all of France.”

Feeling that everything that could be said had been for the moment, Treville bowed. “I will take my leave then, sire.”

Nodding his head, King Louis dismissed the captain with a wave of his hand.

++++

_Garrison canteen_

“I’ve missed Serge’s cookin’,” Porthos grinned as he dug into his hearty plate of stew. “No insult intended to Aramis’ or d’Artagnan’s attempts while we were travelin'.”

“What?” d’Artagnan spoke up teasingly. “You mean during our fifteen day journey both coming and going to Toulouse our cooking didn’t come up to snuff?” he winked at Aramis who had been sitting beside him.

“I only meant it was passable fare,” Porthos huffed. Hearing the unmistakeable sounds of Athos chuckling beside him, Porthos glared at him.

Holding up both hands in surrender, Athos said, “Do not involve me in this discussion if you please.”

“Coward,” whispered d’Artagnan.

As Serge came forward with a plump roasted duck for Aramis, Porthos eyed it hungrily.

Not missing the look his huge friend gave his meal, Aramis slyly smiled. “I suppose I _could_ share it with you for a price,” he quipped.

“Aye now and what's the goin' price gonna be?" Porthos growled eyeing the succulent duck placed in front of Aramis.

“Next time we play cards, mon ami, You. Do. Not. Cheat!” Aramis emphasized each of his words.

“Ain’t no fun if I can’t cheat,” Porthos griped.

“Then I’m very much afraid this meal is mine alone,” Aramis began to slice into the tender duck.

“All right,” Porthos said. “No cheatin’ next game.” He held up his hand. "Mind ya... I said _next game_. And that'll be the only one."

Cutting his duck in half, Aramis asked Serge for another plate. Seeing d’Artagnan trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement, Aramis laughed along. “See, mon garcon, all you have to do is bribe Porthos with some good food and he’ll do nearly anything for you.”

“Eh now, Aramis,” Porthos hissed. “Don’t be puttin’ dumb ideas in the whelp’s head.”

It was too much for d’Artagnan who couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. It was then when the ground beneath their feet began to shake, making the building sway back and forth.

Athos was the first to react as he immediately got up and ran outside. But nothing untoward was happening when he stepped into the courtyard. No other buildings were shaking, nor were there any Musketeers scattering about looking for cover. When Athos came back inside the canteen, he was extremely puzzled. “If it was an earthquake it only targeted this building. Seeing a frazzled Serge run over to them, Athos managed to hide his grin. The man was covered in flour from head to toe.

“May I ask what has happened to you?” Aramis too hid his own amused smile back as Serge looked ready to strangle anyone in his vicinity.

“I don’t know what shook the place up but I was reaching for a tin of flour from the upper shelf when it fell on top of me,” Serge frowned down at his flour dusted body. “I better go an clean up the place,” he walked off muttering that that included himself as well.

“Uh, d’Artagnan,” Athos walked over to the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Perchance, did you have anything to do with this?”

Sheepishly, d’Artagnan ducked his head, murmuring to the ground. “I’m not sure,” he shrugged. “I have never been able to control mother earth very well and always avoided dealing with it. Unfortunately,” d’Artagnan winced, “I think when I _laughed_ at the promise Aramis extracted from Porthos I unintentionally triggered the earth element.”

“Serge was a right picture, I tell ya that,” Porthos winked at the whelp, trying to make d’Artagnan feel better.

“That he was,” Aramis chuckled remembering the flour covered face of the older man. It was like staring at a ghost.

Pushing his half eaten plate of food aside, d’Artagnan stood up. “I’ve sort of lost my appetite,” he glanced round the table at his friends. “I will see you later.”

All three men watched their petite brother walk out the door looking like he carried a heavy load on his young shoulders. Then the inseparables pushed their own unfinished meals aside as well. Though Porthos at least had the advantage of filling his belly with Serge’s good stew beforehand.

“One of us should go after him,” Aramis wisely suggested with a sideways glance toward Athos.

Aramis was hardly subtle when he looked Athos’ way and the man knew it. “When I get like that I prefer to be left alone,” Athos drawled.

“The whelp ain’t you,” Porthos snorted. “Thank the good lord for small mercies,” he grinned at Athos’ dour expression.

“It is best to leave our pup be for the moment,” Athos’ chair made a scraping sound as he slid it back. Getting up, he nodded to his two companions. “I need to see Treville anyway.”

As Athos left them, both Aramis and Porthos did not appear surprised at the man's actions. They obviously understood why their friend took his leave to see the captain.

++++

_Garrison stable_

Seeing d’Artagnan heading for the stable, Comte Babineaux followed.

Burying his head in Zad’s long mane, d’Artagnan felt like he had at the beginning of his training, when only seven years of age, listening at his maman’s knee. No damn control he thought just like in the past.

“What’s wrong, lad?”

Turning around, d’Artagnan was surprised to see the comte standing there wearing a warm smile for him. “You could say I made the canteen shake,” he told Babineaux ruefully. “Didn’t mean too though that’s the problem.”

“Have you not guessed yet as to why I was brought here, d’Artagnan?”

“King Louis obviously needed your skills,” d’Artagnan shrugged. After finding out that the comte was like him, it wasn't too hard to figure out what His Majesty wanted with Babineaux.

“I am to hone your abilities, young one,” Babineaux observed d’Artagnan’s shocked expression with a wry face of his own. “Today for example, what triggered the quake if I may ask?”

“I simply laughed,” d’Artagnan whispered, once more burying his head in Zad’s mane, “quite a bit actually,” he added sadly.

“First you have to truly understand what you’re dealing with,” Babineaux explained. “The classical elements of antiquity, child, are water, air, fire and earth. These are the fundamental building blocks of nature.”

“As my maman taught me,” d’Artagnan agreed, fondly remembering the never ending reserves of patience she had for him as a petite garcon. Her love and pride in him showed daily as she listened to his unending stream of questions. Even in d'Artagnan's spectacular failures as he tried to master the elements, his maman had always been there for him. As it turned out, d'Artagnan still felt like he had more failures than successes to date.

Clapping his hand on the child’s shoulder, Babineaux shook it gently. “Rid yourself of that gloomy face, mon ami. By the time we’re done I feel the king will be well pleased with what you can accomplish.”

++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

“Athos,” Treville put his pen down, wondering what latest calamity brought his lieutenant in to see him. “Is the sky falling?” he asked dryly. Then holding up a hand he continued. “Or is it that Porthos got caught cheating at cards again?" Treville chuckled. "Better yet, does a cuckold husband want Aramis’ blood?”

A slight pulling of Athos’ lips was the only indication that he was fighting off a grin at the questions Treville fired off at him. “You’ll be amazed to know it is none of the above."

“Miracle of miracles,” Treville laughed. “Then what does bring you here, Athos?”

“D’Artagnan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See end for notes.
> 
> ++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

“Take a seat, Athos,” Treville steepled his fingers, leaning forward on his desk. “All right,” his voice gruff, “what about d’Artagnan?”

“What is Comte Babineaux’s true purpose here?” Athos steady gaze never left his captain’s.

“I thought you came to speak about d’Artagnan.” Treville couldn’t yet explain to his younger officer why the king ordered the comte to Paris. It was to be kept a secret for now.

“Having found out what the boy is, along with Babineaux’s admission that he too can control the elements, what else was I supposed to think?”

“For now it is just between you and I,” Treville frowned, going against orders always rubbed against the grain but he would put his lieutenant at ease, or perhaps not with what he was about to reveal to Athos. The thing was that when you informed one inseparable you actually informed all three, and there was the rub. Ah, well, he might as well get it over and done with. “As we speak, Comte Babineaux is talking to d’Artagnan about what is to take place.”

“Which is?” Athos was not the most patient of men and didn’t bother wasting time letting people know it, but the captain was a different kettle of fish. So, Athos held his temper in check which had been threatening to boil over with all these unknown variables running amok in his mind.

“Babineaux will become d’Artagnan’s teacher.” Seeing his lieutenant think upon his words, Treville knew Athos would add two and two together shortly. Ah! And there it was… the lift of a brow. Everyone had a _tell_ and that one belonged solely to Athos.

“His Majesty intends on using d’Artagnan as a weapon?” Athos wasn’t sure how he felt on that score.

“The king wants to be prepared if there ever comes a time we become involved in a war against Spain.” Treville feared it may come sooner than any of them expected.

“So the boy simply becomes a tool for His Majesty to use,” Athos remarked sourly. “What of d’Artagnan’s wishes?”

“The lad’s a soldier in the king’s Musketeers,” Treville shot up out of his chair so fast that it nearly threatened to tip over. “What the deuce do you think?”

“I do not enjoy the pup being treated in this manner,” Athos was uneasy. He needed to find their young one immediately and have a talk with him.

“Think you I do?” He knew this day was coming as soon as King Louis had Treville make the arrangements for Babineaux to be brought to Paris.

Dipping his head, Athos stood silent while he waited for his captain’s temper to cool. It seemed Athos unintentionally stepped on Treville’s toes. “I will take my leave of you now.”

“Thank you for furthering my headache along this morning,” Treville growled low.

“Apologies,” Athos mumbled as he beat a hasty retreat out the office door.

++++

_Courtyard_

“Aramis,” Athos called out, “have you seen d’Artagnan about?” An odor reached his nose and as Athos sniffed at the air he could have sworn it smelled as if something were burning. At first he worried that a building in the garrison had caught afire but seeing how casual Aramis was acting figured his concerns were for naught.

“Just follow your nose,” Aramis laughed and walked past his friend, softly humming to himself.

Doing what Aramis suggested, Athos finally located their young one in an obscure part of the garrison, near a pile of hay that had been set aflame. “Tis not the season for a _bonfire_ ,” he drolly pointed out, noticing d’Artagnan’s sheepish grin which instantly turned into a satisfied smirk.

“Hi, Athos,” d’Artagnan admired his handiwork as the flames blazed upward. “Lohier is teaching me how to manipulate fire better than I had before.”

Realizing the area the comte chose for d’Artagnan’s lessons was far enough away from prying eyes that no one would guess that the boy hadn’t started the fire in a normal manner, Athos relaxed his stance somewhat. Watching Babineaux douse the flames so they wouldn’t catch anything alight, Athos’ curious gaze rested on the lad once more. “What did you do?”

“I shot balls of fire from my hands,” d’Artagnan laughed in delight at his accomplishment. “Imagine that.”

“Oui,” Athos was impressed as he smiled pleasantly for the child’s benefit but shot a quick worried glance toward Babineaux, “ _imagine_.” If it sounded as if there was a sarcastic note in his tone it sailed right over d’Artagnan’s head, but Athos guessed the comte knew he wasn’t exactly dancing for joy.

“You must remember, d’Artagnan,” Babineaux drew the boy closer to his side, “fire is associated with strong emotions such as passion, anger and rage. So you must never lose control of your concentration.”

“Like when we were back at the camp and Aramis complained about the lousy fire I made and then,” d’Artagnan snapped his fingers, “I made the flames dance up high.”

“Exactly,” Comte Babineaux chuckled. “But be honest, were you able to control that ability at the time?”

“Non,” d’Artagnan shook the hair out of his eyes. “I was irritated at Aramis’ jibe and as I stared into the fire it just burst into life.”

“Your emotions ruled over your head, d’Artagnan,” Babineaux nodded. “Next time you’ll be better prepared.”

“It should be easy to remember that rule since it’s the same thing that Athos had drummed into me,” d’Artagnan nodded respectfully at his mentor. “Head over heart he always says.”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos crooked a finger at the lad, “a word if you will,” with an apologetic glance at the comte Athos pulled his protégé aside. “Have you any idea why Babineaux is helping you?”

“Athos,” d’Artagnan rolled his eyes, “how _dumb_ do you think I am?” Seeing his friend raise a brow at his remark, d’Artagnan instantly held up a hand. “Ask a stupid question,” he muttered, earning a slip of a tiny smile from his mentor.

“Ah!” Athos studied the whelp, pleased to see intelligent brown eyes gazing back at him. “You do not mind being used like this?”

Shrugging, d’Artagnan exchanged a solemn look with Athos. “Tis the king’s will and who am I to argue against it?”

Patting the youngster on the back, Athos nodded his head in understanding. It was a long road for the boy to become a Musketeer. He should have realized that d’Artagnan wouldn’t risk going against the king’s wishes at least not at this early stage of his career. “You are a far better man than I, mon fre’re.”

“A qui il a ete beaucoup donne, il sera beaucoup demande,” d’Artagnan wore a wry grin.

“That very well may be,” Athos agreed. “But somehow I think King Louis expects too much of you.” He eyed the dying fire again and Athos’ ground his jaws together.

He could always, or nearly always, read Athos’ mind and knew why his friend appeared slightly disgruntled. “Next time we’re going off into the forest outside of the garrison to practice.” Seeing Athos jaws unclench, d’Artagnan smiled in relief. He had feared Athos was working himself up into giving him a harsh reprimand for doing this inside the garrison. “Producing the fire here was safe because if anyone even bothered coming to this location they would have thought I was just burning something, not that I created it.”

“I had wondered over your disturbing choice if we are to keep your skills under wraps.” Athos thought it prudent that in the future d’Artagnan and the comte continued the lad’s lessons far away from prying eyes.

“When I met with King Louis he mentioned that Cardinal Richelieu was not told of my elemental abilities,” d’Artagnan wasn’t quite sure why His Eminence was being kept in the dark. “His Majesty warned me not to do anything in Richelieu’s presence either.”

“Perhaps for fear that the cardinal would think you’re a practicing witch,” Athos suggested, his concern rising several degrees more for the pup, having not thought further on what the repercussions may become for their youngest. Seeing the unexpected fear his words had evoked in d’Artagnan, Athos felt badly and wanted to ease the child’s worries. “Mon dieu!” he exclaimed in irritation, “tis not something we shall ever see come to pass if I have any say in the matter!”

“You are correct though, Athos,” Comte Babineaux broke in quietly. “We do not want anything to happen to this young man.”

“I know why _I_ want to keep him safe from harm,” Athos announced dryly sending Babineaux an extremely cold look.

Chuckling, Babineaux wasn’t feeling slighted from the dark scowl sent his direction from the elder Musketeer. He had to wonder if Athos ever relaxed and what had made the man the way he was. Not having been in Athos’ company for very long, Babineaux also was curious if Athos ever allowed himself the enjoyment of laughter. Babineaux had been witness to a slight grin or two on their trip to Paris but that was about it. He had the impression that Athos restrained himself a good deal of the time.

Realizing the conversation was fast escalating into territory d’Artagnan didn’t want it to go the boy grabbed at Athos’ arm, leading Athos away from the still smoldering embers of his latest success. “I want to try manipulating air next,” d’Artagnan laughed, “and I'm not just talking about having the wind play with Aramis’ chapeau either.”

D’Artagnan’s glance slid sideways as his eyes encountered the comte’s bright, amused ones. “Lohier said I should try my hand at each of the elements right now so he can judge for himself what I can and cannot do, then later after our sessions we’ll see how I’ve progressed.”

“D’Artagnan has to learn that focus and the right intent are key to channeling his abilities,” Babineaux explained patiently to Athos who was listening intently. “Through meditation techniques the lad will gain more awareness of his visual thoughts and senses. Once he has done this d’Artagnan could then manifest the elements at his disposal.”

“So,” Athos allowed a small smile to spread across his face as his eyes twinkled watching d’Artagnan’s own expressive eyes stare into his own, “in other words… _a piece of cake_.”

++++

_Notes:_

French proverb/sayings:

_A quil il a ete beaucoup donne, il sera beaucoup demande_ – English Equivalent: Everybody to whom much is given, much is expected.


	4. Chapter 4

_Two weeks later, nearby forest outside of Paris_

As d’Artagnan had mentioned to Athos, he and Lohier had taken to riding outside of Paris to different locations where no suspicious minds could see d’Artagnan practicing. Today they chose a forest area about a few hours distance from the garrison. D’Artagnan had made sure Captain Treville was aware of where he would be before they had left.

Things had become rather busy for the Musketeers of late and d’Artagnan did not have much time with Lohier to train as he had hoped, hence today’s outing. Since he had wanted to tackle dealing with the air element that would be in his coming lesson plan as he gazed expectantly at Lohier.

“Now remember, d’Artagnan, as with any of the elements you have to be careful how you treat it or else you could cause a disaster of infinite proportions,” Lohier pointed out to the young man as he observed d’Artagnan’s gaze focus entirely upon him. “You can direct the air as you please, from creating a small pleasant breeze to destroying whole towns with an unstoppable tornado.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as d’Artagnan cantered his head to the right. “That is why you keep cautioning me to be very careful or I could," he closed his eyes for a minute pretending to think on the matter and quickly opened them, "say... take out all of Paris, correct?”

“Oui,” Lohier chuckled. “As the saying goes… _practice makes perfect_.”

“Time will tell,” d’Artagnan countered with a light shrug.

“Some elementals have the ability to wield the air like a sharp blade which will slice through anything in its way. Some could also use it for speed by decreasing the amount of air resistance around them and then they could even create air out of their bodies,” Lohier frowned as he thought more upon that, “though that’s usually done with their hands or mouth. It would be a long time until you could attempt anything like that, d’Artagnan.”

“Right now I can't even picture doing anything of that nature,” d’Artagnan was amazed to learn the many things he could do with the air around him. Here he thought shooting balls of flame from his hands was an accomplishment. There was much for him to learn it would seem.

“I have seen some use their powers offensively by sucking up the oxygen around them, causing others to choke,” Lohier added with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Hmmmmm,” d’Artagnan hummed, “now that could prove a useful tool indeed.”

“In the correct hands, oui,” Lohier nodded his agreement. “The one weakness, if you want to call it that, when manipulating air is _fire_ because it can suck up any air around it and any object that air can’t move. And, of course, you can't use the air element in a complete vacuum either.”

“That's an awful lot to take in,” d’Artagnan worried his lower lip, shaking his head wondering if he would be capable of doing at least half of what Lohier told him was possible.

Lohier could see the doubt forming, clouding d’Artagnan’s mind. “And yet there’s still more as once you have mastered this ability you can also create rain,” he figured he’d give the lad something to look forward too. “That would come in handy if Paris were ever to suffer through a drought."

“As with my other lessons you’ve been teaching me, I have to concentrate on my desired goal along with my emotions,” d’Artagnan confirmed when he noticed Lohier’s pleased smile.

“Pertaining to those emotions, air is associated with freedom, harmony and wholeness of one’s self,” Lohier ticked each one off on his fingers. “You will also be able to sense the elements in your surroundings as you practice more.”

"That sounds remarkable." Wondering what it would feel like to be so in tune with nature's wonders as for them to become a part of you like that, d'Artagnan was astounded at this.

“Now as to grasping the dimension of manifesting air or any other element you must be one with your own mind. Your thoughts can be your friend and once you learn to think specifically on the element you want to use amazing things could happen. When you become adept at this you can also alter manifestations by changing your thought processes.”

“In one of my earlier lessons you mentioned three ways to manifest air. _Visualization_ , _conceptualization_ or by _direct intent_ ,” d’Artagnan pushed back some of his hair in frustration, concerned that he wouldn't be able to retain all this knowledge to use it properly. “I have to combine these to make them work together,” he stared at the other man for a moment. “Did I get that part right?”

“You did, mon ami,” Lohier laughed, happy that his young pupil had been paying attention. “With visualization you could imagine a tornado sweeping an area or twisting in one place which would cause wind. Or imagine trees being gusted by wind and as you do that look at how the trees begin to rustle. Pile on that thought and you can create a very strong wind.”

“You said in regards for conceptualization I have to _sense_ my body internally and externally,” d’Artagnan wasn’t sure he understood what that concept was all about.

“When you do that, d’Artagnan,” Lohier’s eyes sparkled as his enthusiasm grew on the subject, “imagine a wind gathering around your body. Feel the wind against you and increase that feeling til you create a stronger gust.”

“All right, I think I got it,” d’Artagnan nodded. “Focusing my will on my goal, making it occur is what direct intent involves," he glanced at Lohier, "correct?" Since it appeared King Louis was depending on d'Artagnan, he was determined to be the best he could be as an elemental.

"Oui, lad," Lohier patted d'Artagnan on the back. “I know you have far to go but I cannot wait to see your delight when you create mist from the air when you combine it with water,” Lohier’s eyes brightened with joy. “It may seem something small to you, but it always brought me a simple pleasure whenever I made it,” he noticed an answering smile on the boy’s face at his comment. “Levitation will gradually come to you as well," Lohier grinned at the youngster's astonishment. "Catching something as it fell by creating a cushion of air will eventually come as natural as breathing to you,” he added with a firm nod of his head. “All will be at your command with time.”

“I’d get a kick just out of levitating Aramis’ chapeau in front of his face instead of making him chase all over the dirty ground for it.”

“Light pranks are all well and good as long as you don’t get caught,” Lohier snorted, “but this is serious business and not to be trifled with.”

“I realize that,” d’Artagnan shot back, feeling a tad irritated that he couldn’t have some frivolous fun along the way. "Apologies," d'Artagnan winced. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"I'll try not to put a damper on your spirits as much as humanly possible, child," Lohier folded his arms as he observed the lanky youth. "Now let’s put some of my instruction into play,” Lohier stepped a little ways off from the lad and urged him on. “Go ahead, son, let’s see what you can do.” And indeed Lohier was well pleased when he watched the young man put to use all that he had been teaching him up to this point.

Applying his new found knowledge, d’Artagnan concentrated on the trees in the forest surrounding him. As he focused his thoughts on them he saw the trees eventually start to sway back and forth. It was then d’Artagnan slowly held out his hand and created a fist, clenching and unclencing it. Suddenly a huge blast of cool air was felt not only by him but it threatened to knock Lohier to the ground with the force of it. What d’Artagnan didn’t know at the time was that the inseparables were on their way to see him and got unintentionally caught up in his lessons.

First thing d’Artagnan heard was Porthos' loud shout of dismay, followed on the heels by a violent round of cursing from Athos. Someone else yelled out a prayer for God to be merciful and d’Artagnan realized that voice belonged to Aramis. Swiftly turning around he noticed all three of his friends were sprawled on the ground a little distance away from where he was standing, their horses nowhere to be seen. They seemed all in one piece to his concerned eyes, though a little worse for wear and dazed into the bargain.

“What in God’s name hit us?” Aramis moaned as he stumbled to his feet on shaky legs.

“Felt like a hammer knocked me off Roulette,” Porthos grunted as he dragged himself up from the hard ground.

Dusting himself off, Athos glared at both men. “Whatever it was is a moot point,” his tone was unsettled much like he was at the moment. “What is important is to find where our horses have gotten off too.”

Then the three men spotted d’Artagnan running toward them and they waited for the boy's approach.

“Apologies,” d’Artagnan quickly offered and immediately could see their confused faces staring back at him.

“For?” Athos arched an eyebrow.

Waving his hand about, d’Artagnan blushed bright red. “Ummmm,” he swallowed hard and tried again. “You know,” his hand waved around more, “ _the air_.”

Tilting his head, Porthos’ scowl deepened. “What cha’ mean… _the air_?”

“Lohier was teaching me how to manipulate it and,” d’Artagnan grinned, hooking his hands inside his weapon’s belt, preening a little, “guess it worked.”

Instead of being upset with the lad, Athos was clearly impressed. “Was that your first attempt?”

“Oui,” d’Artagnan ducked his head shyly.

“Well done, chiot,” Athos’ blue eyes twinkled, though Porthos and Aramis didn’t seem much amused.

“Your congratulatin’ the whelp on puttin’ us all on our asses?” Porthos snorted as he exchanged a disgruntled look with Aramis.

“If it sounded like that to you,” Athos shrugged, “than that is exactly what I did,” he dipped his head at d’Artagnan and smiled.

Huffing and brushing off dirt that was still clinging to him, Aramis placed both hands on his hips to glare at their youngest. “Could have hollered out a warning," he added sourly.

“If I had _known_ you were going to be in the vicinity I would have,” d’Artagnan retorted swiftly. Now he was the one feeling unsettled because it wasn’t his fault that his best friends picked the _wrong_ time to come.

“Instead of both of you,” Athos glowered at first Aramis and then at Porthos, “getting on d’Artagnan’s back,” he huffed, “we are the ones who should be apologizing to him since we had the ill fortune to be in the pup’s way to begin with.” Seeing the chagrined faces of his comrades, a small smile tugged at Athos’ lips.

“Gentlemen,” Babineaux stepped forward, “did you come to watch the lad practice?” He had observed, with quiet interest, how Athos defended the lad. “Or does King Louis require d’Artagnan in some manner?”

“Captain Treville has assigned us all on a mission to Artois,” Athos replied. “Only a little over a two day journey so we should be returning within five days,” Athos glanced at d’Artagnan briefly. “It won’t put too much of a dent in your sessions.”

“Now where the deuce did our horses get too?” Aramis slapped his dusty hat against his thigh as he looked around the area. Turning to their pup, he stabbed d’Artagnan with a curious look. “Don’t suppose you could use your _abilities_ to find them?”

“Uh,” d’Artagnan was surprised by the request, “they don’t work that way," he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Aramis.”

Mumbling to himself, Aramis walked away calling out for Belle to come out from wherever she was hiding.

“Wait up,” Athos held up a hand, “I’ll join you. Roger could be with Belle and Roulette.

“I’ll go get Zad and be along in a few minutes,” d’Artagnan called out to Athos and watched him join Aramis. Porthos had already taken off to look for Roulette.

Facing Lohier, d’Artagnan grimaced. “Sorry we have to interrupt my lessons but as Athos pointed out it won’t be for long.”

A grin graced Lohier’s older features. “Think nothing of it, d’Artagnan. You must obey your orders.” Looking thoughtfully at the boy, Lohier nodded more to himself than d’Artagnan. “Use your time while on the road to put into practice some of what you have learned so far.”

“As long as I make sure that my brothers don’t get caught up in a whirlwind along the way,” d’Artagnan chuckled. Hearing Lohier’s bark of amusement, he left to go get Zad. But found suddenly that the ground was coming up to meet him as, next thing he knew, d'Artagnan was on his back staring up at three concerned Musketeers and one worried teacher.

"You blacked out for a few minutes," Lohier told him. "I yelled for your brothers to come back."

"What the hell happened this time?" Porthos growled as he helped the whelp up.

"I'm not quite sure," d'Artagnan felt lightheaded and not at all himself as both Athos and Aramis grabbed at each one of his arms to steady him.

"I should have warned you this could possibly happen," Lohier bit his lip. "Apologies for not telling you of it sooner, d'Artagnan."

"Explain yourself!" Athos ordered harshly, "why did the boy pass out?"

"This didn't happen when he created balls of flame," Lohier frowned, "which now that I think on it is indeed odd."

"Why's what odd?" Aramis asked, feeling confused with the conversation. He hated feeling left out.

"When d'Artagnan created that burst of wind it took a lot out of the lad and weakened him." Giving the boy a sharp look, Lohier said, "We will have to work on strengthening your mind so that doesn't keep happening to you."

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan pouted. "I do not even want to know what that involves." As the other men's laughter filled the air, d'Artagnan leaned toward Athos, who had kept his arm firmly around him. Feeling their love surrounding him, d'Artagnan knew that he would do whatever was in his power to protect them and the monarchy.


	5. Chapter 5

_Near Artois_

Riding abreast of Athos, d'Artagnan was content. He was more at ease knowing his abilities were now nothing to be afraid of and d'Artagnan could start using them to help his brothers and King Louis.

"You're too quiet," Athos murmured, his sharp eyes ever alert as he surveyed the area they traveled for signs of malandrins, which were all too frequent of late.

"I'm thinking," d'Artagnan leaned forward to stroke Zad's mane, it also had a calming effect on d'Artagnan as well.

"I can't hear your thoughts though," Athos remarked. "Do you not care to share them with me?"

"Not yet."

"As you wish." Athos worried. A quiet d'Artagnan was not the norm in his world.

Aramis and Porthos followed closely behind the other men and it was because of that they discovered they were being followed.

"Athos!" Aramis called out, and when Athos turned his head to look at him, Aramis pointed behind him with his harquebus in his hand.

No words were needed as Athos nodded and then glanced over at the boy. D'Artagnan also understood the silent exchange and already had his pistol drawn. "Fan out!" Athos ordered. As he watched them all split up, suddenly the solitary road they traveled on was filled with malandrins all brandishing weapons. Picking off two riders from their mounts, Athos smiled grimly.

It was then Porthos' turn as his shots hit their marks. Killing one and maiming another in the thigh. His mad laughter filled the air as Porthos grinned at his brothers. "That's the way to do it, d'Artagnan!" he shouted at the whelp.

Aramis and his harquebus were a force all of their own as he took careful aim and picked off four canailles.

But it was to d'Artagnan's credit what happened next. Deciding to be creative, he put to use his training as an elemental. After all, Lohier did tell him to practice while on the road and why not now? Concentrating on the ground, d'Artagnan clenched his fist and then splayed his fingers wide toward the dirt until he had created what appeared to be a funnel cloud.

To the five stunned malandrins, now lying on their collective asses, it seemed to them as if a mini whirlwind had come bursting through knocking them from their horses.

"Now that _look_ is much better on them than on us," Porthos grunted his pleasure.

Eyes alight with his own amusement, Aramis agreed. "Well, mon ami, shall we gather them up like one would leaves from these trees?"

"Must we?" Porthos pulled a face, earning a bright laugh from their youngest.

"Well done, d'Artagnan!" Aramis waved at the lad as he jumped off Belle to help Porthos with their garbage collection.

"Will you shut up!" Athos snapped. "Tell all the world and these cut-purses that the boy did this, why don't you?"

"Oops!" Aramis grimaced. "Apologies," he shrugged lightly, "but I highly doubt they'll realize what truly happened here."

"Porthos," Athos decided to ignore Aramis for the moment, "how many alive?"

"Six," Porthos replied as he, Aramis and d'Artagnan finished tying them up with heavy rope. "One's hit in the upper thigh though."

"I'll take care of that," Aramis offered pleasantly and trotted off to get his medical supplies from his saddlebags.

"We are nearly to Artois," d'Artagnan pointed out quietly. "Might as well drop them off to the local gendarmes."

"It won't necessarily delay our mission," Athos mused. "Bringing them in on foot will slow us down just slightly so, oui, we will not leave them here on this road to be picked off by other malandrins," he smiled.

"And they say you have no heart," d'Artagnan sniggered, earning a playful cuff behind the ear from Athos.

"Cheeky brat," Athos' blue eyes sparkled as he gazed proudly at his petite fre're. Then it changed quickly to one of concern as the boy silently slipped from his saddle to lie in a boneless heap upon the hard ground. "Parbleu, d'Artagnan! he cried out in anguish, unable to catch the lad in time as he fell off Zad. "Aramis! Porthos! Attend!" he barked as Athos swiftly dismounted to aid their youngest.

All three men fell to their knees around the unconscious youth. Aramis kept tapping at d'Artagnan's cheek trying to wake him up, while Athos held the lad tightly in his arms resting his chin on top of d'Artagnan's head.

"Eh, whelp," Porthos growled. "You wanna give us all grey hairs to rival Treville's? Cause ya sure goin' about it the right way."

A flutter of eyelashes told the inseparables d'Artagnan was trying to come back to them.

"Isn't this the same thing that happened back there with Babineaux while the pup practiced?" Porthos was not a happy Musketeer. It was damn well fine for d'Artagnan to be able to do these amazing feats but risking his health was a whole other matter.

"This is the second time d'Artagnan's tried that air element," Athos noted. "Perhaps it may be a more draining technique than the ones the boy's tried already."

"I'll scold him properly for doing so again then," Aramis huffed. "Until d'Artagnan can strengthen his mind, as Lohier suggested before we left, let's all make sure that our lad doesn't try it again anytime soon."

"Ya finally with us, boyo?" Porthos anxiously watched as d'Artagnan slowly opened dazed eyes.

Looking at the concern clearly written on all his brother's faces, d'Artagnan could have kicked himself. "Je pense que oui," then he sighed softly. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"OUI!" all three Musketeers shouted in unison at d'Artagnan, making the youngster wince in pain.

"You'll ride up front with me, chiot," Athos ordered none too gently. "Lest you keel over and have your face kissing the ground again."

Nodding weakly, d'Artagnan let Porthos and Athos help him up on Roger. Gripping the horse's reins tightly in both hands, it wasn't until Athos settled himself behind him that d'Artagnan relaxed, falling back against his mentor's broad chest. With the weight of Athos' arm wrapped around his waist, d'Artagnan closed his eyes and slept.

++++

_Artois_

"Those gendarmes didn't seem pleased ta be saddled with those canailles," Porthos smiled. Better them than us he thought.

"Not our fault," Aramis chuckled. Seeing d'Artagnan still asleep in Athos' arms, his laugh died off. "Our chiot still breathing?"

"Oui," Athos nodded curtly. "Let us get this packaged dropped off quickly and find an inn to stay the night."

"Sounds like a right fine plan ta me," Porthos got back up on Roulette and followed the others.

By the time the package from Treville was delivered, d'Artagnan had started to stir in Athos' hold. "Ummmm, Athos," d'Artagnan cleared his throat, wetting dry lips, "we there yet?"

"Been and done, petite garcon," Athos teased, hearing the mirth shared by his other two brothers behind him.

"Not a little boy," d'Artagnan grumbled, knuckling his eyes. Unbeknownst to him, d'Artagnan had just treated his brothers to an _aw_ moment, for he looked exactly like the petite garcon Athos had teased him for being.

"This seems as good a place as any to rest our weary bones." Aramis stopped Belle in front of what appeared to be a well kept inn, at least from outward appearances. If Aramis ended up finding a mouse in his soup, well then all bets were off.

"Then by all means, gentlemen," Athos announced, "let's get our chiot inside."

"Yeah," Porthos got off Roulette and went over to help the whelp down from Roger. "We need to put our petite garcon to bed."

"Guys!" d'Artagnan growled sharply. "Enough! All right?"

Seeing they had teased the child enough, the inseparables took in easy on d'Artagnan the rest of the evening.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's office_

"Here's the report you were waiting for, Your Eminence," Lieutenant Malicorne placed a sheet of paper down on the cardinal's desk and pushed it toward him.

Picking it up, Richelieu grinned slyly. "Do you know the contents of this?" he waved the paper in the air.

"Non, Your Eminence."

"Good," Richelieu snapped. "Keep it that way." He waved his hand in dismissal and watched the lieutenant leave. Sitting back against his chair he smiled to himself. "Oh, d'Artagnan," he chuckled. "So Louis kept your abilities secret from me and thinks to use you for the good of France," Richelieu shook his head in mock despair. "Well so do I, petite Musketeer... so do I."

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Two days later, en route to the garrison_

The way back to the garrison proved uneventful for the foursome. At full strength again, d'Artagnan kept his brothers entertained with stories of his life growing up on the farm with his parents. That started all of the inseparables swapping their own tales of adventures as a Musketeer which d'Artagnan learned became more embellished as time went on, depending on which brother was doing the telling.

++++

_Musketeer garrison dorm_

Lohier was waiting impatiently for the lad's return and when the garrison was informed later that afternoon the four had returned, well he couldn't wait to see his pupil.

Spying the boy on his way back to his room, Lohier hollered out. "Wait up, d'Artagnan!"

Tired from their journey, yet  not overly so, d'Artagnan was pleased to see his teacher. "Bonjour, Lohier."

"How fared your assignment?" Lohier was curious to know if the lad had got any practice time in while going about his duties for King Louis.

"More than we bargained for." So d'Artagnan filled Lohier in on the details about their encounter with the malandrins and what he had created that resulted in their capture.

"A whirlwind you say," Lohier was amazed. "I wasn't expecting you to achieve that in so short a time," he stared at d'Artagnan until the youngster started to squirm. "You are more powerful than I first thought."

"It was only a petite one," d'Artagnan reminded him.

"It doesn't matter, mon garcon," Lohier remarked pleasantly. "Perhaps tomorrow we can try your abilities on mother Earth this time."

"I'd like that, but all I want to do for now is get a bath and a change of clothes," d'Artagnan sniffed at his shirt beneath his doublet and made a face. "Definitely need a change of clothing."

"After you are well rested I will see you on the morrow then," Lohier nodded, patted the youngster on the back and left d'Artagnan in peace.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's office_

One of the Red Guards had been alerted to d'Artagnan's arrival and he set off instantly to inform the cardinal.

Richelieu made his man wait while he hastily wrote something down on a piece of paper and closed it with his seal. Handing it to the guard Richelieu made sure his orders would be followed. "See that gets delivered to the Musketeer d'Artagnan at the garrison right away."

"Oui, Your Eminence."

Watching his guard leaving, Richelieu's lips curled upward into a smile.

++++

_Musketeer dorm_

Having refreshed himself with a nice bath and some fresh clothes, d'Artagnan was about to check in with Captain Treville when someone knocked on the door. He knew if it were other Musketeers they'd just simply walk right in, so d'Artagnan figured it was a visitor. He was quite surprised to find a Red Guard standing outside instead.

The guard thrust a letter into d'Artagnan's hand. "That's from the Cardinal." He gave a curt nod to the young man and immediately went his way.

"Merci," d'Artagnan muttered, but the guard hadn't lingered long enough to hear his thanks. Breaking the seal, he quickly scanned the contents. Folding it up, he tucked it into his doublet and walked out the door.

++++

_Courtyard_

"Where's d'Artagnan goin' in such a hurry," Porthos waved to the whelp, but the boy didn't see him.

"I'm sure it is his own business," Athos said and took a sip of  his lager that Serge had so kindly provided them all with.

"The pup doesn't have to tell us his comings and goings all the time, Porthos." Aramis began to hum as he went about cleaning his musket.

"Seeing how none of ya care," Porthos griped, "then why should I."

"We did not say _that_ ," Athos scowled at his large friend.

"I don't like the boy bein' out of our sight for too long," Porthos mumbled and reached for his own drink.

"Mama bear," Aramis teased kindly.

"I ain't the only one," Porthos grunted with a severe look at his brothers, "or at least we _all_ used to be."

"The child needs his own space every now and then," Athos huffed, "plus we just got back from a mission. I'm sure if it is of any great import d'Artagnan will tell us so."

"Yeah, bien... whatever," Porthos grunted into his lager while his two comrades rolled their eyes at him.

++++

_Cardinal Richelieu's office_

This wasn't the first time d'Artagnan had been in the cardinal's presence and he doubted it would be the last either. He didn't care for the man, nor did his brothers and Richelieu had to know it as well. Though this time the cardinal was making d'Artagnan nervous with the way he kept staring at him.

"I realize you have no inkling of why I've summoned you here, d'Artagnan," Richelieu looked directly into the younger man's eyes from where he sat comfortably ensconced behind his huge desk. "You have something of which I want to make use of," Richelieu announced quietly, a slight smile graced his features, "for the good of France of course," he added.

Frozen in place, d'Artagnan feared his secret had been discovered. Unless King Louis finally decided to inform the cardinal. If that were the case, d'Artagnan had assumed His Majesty would have warned him beforehand.

"Your unique abilities intrigue me greatly and I can see you using them to protect king and country." Richelieu told him.

Pretending for the moment that he had no idea what the cardinal spoke of, d'Artagnan played dumb. " _Abilities_ , Your Eminence?"

Rising up from his chair, Richelieu walked swiftly around his desk to stand in front of the lad. "Please, d'Artagnan," Richelieu chuckled. "I have spies all over Paris and especially here. That's how I became aware of your talents." Completing a lazy circle around the boy, Richelieu smirked. "There are certain matters of state I need dealt with and you are just the person to help me."

"I don't understand," d'Artagnan felt deep within himself he knew how the cardinal meant to use him.

"If you do not bow to my wishes I will bring you up on charges of witchcraft and let the fires of hell take you," Richelieu hissed, letting his calm facade drop.

"King Louis would not let you get away with it!" d'Artagnan countered, still shocked that the cardinal knew everything about him now.

"We'll see," Richelieu chuckled. "I understand Comte Babineaux's unexpected visit to us was really by Louis' invitation and which clears up quite a few things for me." Going back to his desk, Richelieu's cape fluttered behind him like some dark-winged creature. "I will think more upon what I need you to do and so will send for you again later." Waving d'Artagnan away, he went back to his correspondence.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Entering without knocking was a breach of etiquette d'Artagnan had drilled into him from the time he was a mere garcon. But he felt, under the circumstances, this time the captain wouldn't mind.

"Those three are teaching you bad habits," Treville shook his head. "It's usually them who do not knock first upon entering."

"Pardon," d'Artagnan bobbed his head, "but I felt this was too urgent to bother with manners."

Noting the distress, not only on the lad's face but in his voice, Treville's attention was truly caught. "What has happened?"

"Cardinal Richelieu has found out about my elemental abilities and has threatened to denounce me as a practicing witch to burn at the stake if I do not do as he commands."

"Mon dieu! The king won't stand for it!" Treville was positive of that.

"Richelieu didn't appear worried when I told him that very same thing." Feeling sick to his soul, d'Artagnan could only gaze helplessly at the captain.

"What has the cardinal asked of you?"

"Nothing yet." D'Artagnan wished now that their prior assignment had lasted longer, postponing his meeting with the cardinal even though the outcome would have remained the same. "Richelieu will send for me later when he's finished with his plotting."

"Go back to your quarters, son," Treville ordered gruffly, "better yet, go inform your three brothers of this."

"I do not want to burden them with my troubles," d'Artagnan murmured softly.

"Four heads are always better than one young Gascon's, eh?" Treville smiled at the lad.

"If I learn how to manipulate water better perhaps I could freeze the cardinal," d'Artagnan offered with a smile of his own.

"Richelieu is cold as ice, I'll give you that," Treville laughed. "It would be a fitting end for one such as he, but we'll table that for later. Now go seek out your friends."

"Oui, Captain."

Watching the depressed youth leave Treville stood up, grabbed his hat and headed for the palace.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end.
> 
> ++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

After his audience with the cardinal, d'Artagnan raced to see Captain Treville. When he informed him of what had transpired in His Eminence's presence d'Artagnan could see how very upset his captain was.

"We must see the king at once!" Treville cried out nearly beside himself with worry over what could become of d'Artagnan if the boy did not obey Richelieu's demands, whatever they may be. So taking the youngster by the arm he pulled d'Artagnan out the door.

++++

_Royal Palace, throne room_

His audience with King Louis was granted right away for which Treville was grateful for. While waiting in the throne room he studied d'Artagnan wondering if it would be better to send the child away from Paris, though the inseparables would grieve terribly. They might even resign their commissions to be with d'Artagnan. That he could not have happen.

Striding into the room, King Louis took one look at both men's faces and immediately dismissed his royal guards and ordered them to station themselves outside of the room. After they left he gazed at Treville with deep concern. "What has the cardinal done to cause you both such distress?" Louis was not a stupid man, far from it. He wasn't blind to Richelieu's extra curricular activities as long as France prospered from it. But when he messed about with his Musketeers, Louis wouldn't stand for it.

"Sire," d'Artagnan stepped forward first, "Cardinal Richelieu called me into his office just a little while ago to tell me he knew I was an Elemental."

Furious at his First Minister, King Louis realized too late that the man had spies everywhere, and no matter how careful d'Artagnan had been someone would have been dogging the boy's every step. "Go on... don't be afraid to tell me what else was said. After all that's why you're here to begin with."

"More or less I was to do his bidding at his command using my abilities," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes, "for the good of France of course."

" _Of course_ ," King Louis sneered. "I will speak with Richelieu first thing tomorrow and let it be known to him that he will steer clear of you from now on."

"Your Majesty," Treville broke in, "he's blackmailing d'Artagnan by saying he will expose the boy as an Elemental to your subjects and once that has been accomplished d'Artagnan will be tried and burned as a witch."

"I will not have it!" King Louis shouted so loud that his guards came running inside the throne room. "Oh do go away!" King Louis yelled at them until they turned swiftly around and nearly stumbled into one another in their haste to leave. Then thinking better on it, King Louis quickly made his way towards the entrance where he called out for his guards to come back. The men appeared bewildered by his actions but King Louis could have cared less. "Tell the cardinal I require his presence immediately!" Facing d'Artagnan, he tried to ease the youngster's mind. "Do not worry so," King Louis laughed. "You do not want to end up looking like the cardinal," he jested lightly to the lad. "I will set Richelieu straight on the matter."

But when the cardinal arrived, cape billowing out behind him, he had words for the king as well. “Before you start on me, sire, I figured the boy would run to Treville and then he to you,” Richelieu gazed shrewdly at both the youngster and captain. “If you don’t let me have use of d’Artagnan I will let it leak out that Your Majesty was hiding an Elemental within his Musketeer regiment, purposely keeping it a secret,” he grinned slyly. “What do you think your subjects would think of you then?”

“I’d be tarred and feathered like d’Artagnan,” King Louis responded in a low voice.

“Non,” Richelieu corrected. “You’d burn along side the young man. Everyone would think you’re a sympathizer to a witch.”

“You would do that to your Monarch?” King Louis eyed the man with distaste, wondering how Richelieu ever became a man of the cloth. It occurred to him that perhaps it was time to write to Rome.

“I would do that to anyone standing in the way of bettering France, Your Majesty,” Richelieu responded observing the unsettled look that crossed the king’s face. “So what shall it be then?”

Gazing at the uncertainty he saw on d’Artagnan, King Louis feared that if pushed the boy would make a run for it. Thus making him lose not only an Elemental but a valuable soldier into the bargain.

“I am waiting, sire?” Richelieu reminded the king, wondering what thoughts were running about in His Majesty’s hum drum head.

“The only concession I will make, Cardinal, would be that anything you need d’Artagnan to do comes to my attention first.”

Frowning, Richelieu didn’t like that idea at all. “For what purpose? Even if you would veto whatever I wanted the boy to do I’m going to go ahead with it anyway.”

“Mon dieu!” King Louis couldn't believe the arrogance of the man. “You’re very close to the edge, Richelieu!” he hollered. “You haven’t really seen me angry before. In the future I’d watch my step if I were you, if you continue to overstep the boundaries in this manner.” King Louis’ gaze rested on the boy and he made sure Richelieu understood the silent threat he was making. He knew d’Artagnan got the message when the youngster’s lips turned upward in a smirk.

“Hmmmpf!” Richelieu muttered. “When the time comes, sire, we will see who has the upper hand.”

“Now get out of my sight!” King Louis commanded. But as he watched the cardinal walk away he gave Richelieu food for thought. “Oh, Cardinal, I just may decide to petition Rome about having your activities of late investigated.” Chew on that he crowed to himself and nearly laughed in delight at the fear that crossed and quickly left Richelieu’s face.

As both Treville and d’Artagnan heard the king’s words they realized they could count on His Majesty to back them up.

“So for now we play a waiting game with the cardinal?” King Louis told them. Beckoning d’Artagnan to come to him, King Louis put a companionable arm around the lad’s shoulder. “If ever Richelieu goes over my head and comes directly to you, d’Artagnan, come to me immediately. No matter what I am doing I will always make time for you.”

“I will, sire,” d’Artagnan bowed and waited for his dismissal. He was anxious to discuss all of this with his friends.

Watching the boy leave, King Louis looked his captain in the eye. “You know I wasn’t bluffing about contacting Rome.”

“I never thought you were,” Treville grinned. “As you say, sire, now we wait.”

++++

_Aramis’ apartments_

“The deuce you say!” Athos was angry, slamming his glass on Aramis’ oak table with a resounding thump.

Having told his friends of what had gone on with both the cardinal and the king, d’Artagnan sat brooding over his glass of wine Aramis had so kindly provided him with. “At least the king is on my side.”

“And well he should be,” Aramis snorted.

“God knows what Richelieu would do with d’Artagnan’s powers,” Porthos growled. “Probably start a war with Spain or another country.”

“My future lies with King Louis no matter what,” d’Artagnan added softly. “It is for him to agree or disagree with the cardinal’s wishes.”

“Your future depends on many things but mostly on _you_ , chiot,” Athos told him.

“I for one do not want to dwell on this anymore,” d’Artagnan commented. “Porthos, how about a rousing card game where I get to win for once?” Everyone laughed at his quip but the eldest Musketeer. Seeing it, d'Artagnan pleaded with his mentor. “Let it go for now, Athos.”

“We keep our wits about us when dealing with Richelieu from now on,” Athos’ blue eyes darkened in anger. Clergyman or not, if the cardinal dared hurt his protégé , Athos would see the man dead by his hand first.

++++

_Early morning next day_

Riding out to their usual spot, Comte Babineaux had d’Artagnan practice the earth element next. “You have the power to manipulate everything the earth contains including sand, stone, rock, dirt and other minerals it holds within,” Lohier instructed.

“Something you mentioned on our way here gave me an idea,” d’Artagnan casually remarked. “I already know I can cause the earth to move when I’m excited or upset and you’ve shown me how to calm my energy so I can control that, but could I possibly turn someone into stone?”

Stunned, Lohier wondered what in the world d’Artagnan needed to know that for. “I’m not sure I should tell you. Are you planning to pull a prank on someone?”

“Non,” d’Artagnan had a determined glint in his eye that he knew concerned Lohier.

Hesitant to give an answer, Lohier did it anyway. “It’s called calcification by turning someone or something into a statue but, d’Artagnan, I do not know who you have in mind but I’d advise against it.”

“It was only a thought,” d’Artagnan murmured thinking how lovely it would be to have the cardinal adorn the royal gardens as a statue where birds could rest or crap on it. Either one would do just fine as far as d'Artagnan was concerned. “I could always cause tremors and a rock could fall on his head,” forgetting he had an audience d’Artagnan had spoken that thought out loud and noticed Lohier cringe in reaction.

Whomever d’Artagnan had in mind Lohier was glad it was not him. Shrugging his worries aside, Lohier continued the lad's lessons. “Remember, this is a most difficult element to handle since it is less flexible in comparison to the other elements. However, it is a good element to use as a powerful defense or attack against an enemy. When you think upon using it, calm your mind and think what it is associated with.”

“Patience, strength, stability and goodness,” d’Artagnan grinned as he remembered all that Lohier had taught him.

“Excellent,” Lohier clapped. “Now let’s put some of that knowledge to use.”

++++

_Same day, later in the afternoon - on Parade at the Royal Palace gardens_

“Thank heavens we’re not standing out in the sweltering heat this time,” Aramis muttered.

“Afraid of a little sweat,” Porthos snorted.

“Afraid of smelling like something the cat dragged in,” d’Artagnan offered with a small grin.

“Gentlemen,” Athos glanced sideways at his friends, “remember we’re on duty.”

“Who could forget,” Aramis snickered low.

Observing the king and queen with their guests, d’Artagnan’s eyes narrowed as they focused on Cardinal Richelieu who was near a buffet table that had been set up underneath a huge tent. A germ of an idea began to form in his head and it wouldn’t let go. He just had to do what felt right to him.

Concentrating on the ground beneath His Eminence, d’Artagnan lifted his hand ever so slightly hoping his brothers would not see what he was about to do. Clenching his fist tightly he focused all his thought processes on the dirt crunching underneath the cardinal's feet until a hole big enough for a man’s foot to fit in opened up near Richelieu.

++++

As far as Richelieu was concerned this affair was boring. He’d quickly snatch a few delicacies off the table and bid adieu with apologies to the king that he had to leave. As he walked around the buffet table his world shifted as suddenly he found himself crying out in pain. When he looked downward it was to find his foot and part of his leg past his ankle were stuck in a hole. Why he missed it earlier Richelieu had no idea. All he knew was that he was in a great deal of pain.

++++

It hadn’t escaped Athos that d’Artagnan had fisted his hand and was staring straight ahead at the cardinal. Watching that same hand relax and seeing what befell Richelieu... well it didn’t take a genius to figure out what the lad had done and he couldn’t blame d’Artagnan at all. Tipping his hat to the lad, Athos allowed himself a small smile.

“Aide-toi et le ciel t’aidera,” Aramis murmured with a sideways glance at the boy. He too recognized d'Artagnan's handiwork and was proud of their pup.

"I do hope the cardinal ain't too badly hurt," Porthos snorted and grinned at the whelp.

He couldn’t hide anything from his brothers it would seem. Though he felt better upon seeing Athos acknowledge him and hearing comments made from Porthos and Aramis. “Er, Captain,” d’Artagnan noticed that Treville was having a hard time not laughing at the cardinal’s trouble, “perhaps Aramis should see to His Eminence.”

“Mmmmm,” Treville hummed with a light shrug. “Aramis go on with you.” Watching Aramis whisper something in d’Artagnan’s ear before leaving, Treville was curious as to what the marksman had to say. “I hope he didn’t encourage anything further," he murmured low.

“Non,” d’Artagnan tried for an innocent look but could see it wouldn’t pass muster with the captain.

“I won’t say a word,” Treville whispered to the lad.

“I won’t neither,” Porthos chuckled and winked at their youngest.

“On my honor I will take it to my grave,” Athos had started shaking so hard with silent laughter that he was afraid he’d burst.

"Aramis wanted to know if I could do a repeat performance on the cardinal's other foot," d'Artagnan admitted. Feeling the light slap on his back from Treville made what d'Artagnan had done worthwhile as he and the others listened in to the cardinal cursing a blue streak at everyone trying to help him.

A poke in his side from Porthos had d'Artagnan's gaze land on King Louis who had joined everyone crowded around Richelieu. Seeing His Majesty look his way wearing a wide grin did wonders for d'Artagnan's spirits. Apparently he couldn't fool any of them. D'Artagnan only hoped he had fooled the cardinal.

++++

 _Note:_  
The line I used - _Your future depends on many things but mostly on you_... is from an editorial cartoonist, columnist and humorist by the name of Frank Tyger.

French proverbs/sayings: _Aide-toi et le ciel t'aidera_ \- English equivalent: Heaven helps those who help themselves.


	8. Chapter 8

_Next day - Musketeer garrison, courtyard_

Sitting on top of the bench with one leg propped up on the seat, Aramis cleaned his weapons. Porthos, who was seated beside him was clapping at d'Artagnan and Athos who were sparring with each other.

"That's the way, whelp!" Porthos shouted. "Athos needs to remember he's not getting any younger!"

Parrying d'Artagnan's attack, Athos risked a sideways glance at his large friend. "Merci, for reminding me of that little fact."

"Oh, d'Artagnan!" Aramis called out. "Heard the cardinal's laid up with a broken ankle."

"Shame it couldn't of been a broken neck," Porthos grunted low, just in case there were any Red Guards sneaking around.

"I feel for his Eminence," d'Artagnan was sleightly out of breath as he backpeddled from Athos' rapier. "I really do," he threw a quick grin over at his brothers.

"Yeah, poor man," Porthos laughed. "Has ta use crutches for at least six weeks."

"It couldn't have happened to a nicer gent, eh, boys?" Treville snorted as he joined his men. "Good form, d'Artagnan!" Treville hollered and noted the wide grin that spread over the young Gascon's face at his praise.

"Uh, Captain," Aramis put down the rag he had been using. "Richelieu hasn't figured out that our pup..." he indicated the ground with a wave of his hand, "you know?"

"Richelieu hasn't a clue and it will stay that way," Treville smiled. "Fine piece of work that boy did yesterday. I applaud his ingenuity in getting even with the man."

"Hope the cardinal will be in so much pain that he leaves d'Artagnan alone." Porthos suddenly stood up, cupped his hands and yelled, "Whelp! Watch out! Athos will have ya on your arse before ya know it!"

Smirking, Treville enjoyed the comradery these four men shared. Before he left them though Treville rallied the lad on. "Come on, d'Artagnan! You nearly got him that time!"

Porthos and Aramis grinned at each other as their captain joined in their fun and then noticed the surprised look covering Athos' sweaty face as d'Artagnan closed in on him.

"It would seem Treville's in your corner, chiot." Athos was pleased at his protégé's reactions as Athos performed a disengage but it was easily countered by the boy's circle parry.

"Let's call it a draw!" Aramis shouted, holding up a mug in his hand. "Serge has kindly provided all of us with refreshments," he grinned. "Come, gentlemen, quench your thirsts!"

"In other words," d'Artagnan snorted, "it probably means Aramis and Porthos had a bet running on us and neither one wanted to lose their money."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Athos nodded in agreement.

Calling a halt to their match, both men saluted each other with their swords and re-sheathed them. They were laughing together as they approached the table. Athos reached for his mug first and downed its contents in one go. Likewise, d'Artagnan did much the same.

As the men all sat around trading stories they were interrupted by the intrusion of a Red Guard.

"Which one of you is the Musketeer d'Artagnan?"

Nudging Aramis in the side, Porthos grunted. "Must be a new man if he don't know the whelp by sight."

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed softly watching the guard deal with their youngest.

"I am d'Artagnan," he stood up, nearly towering over the Red Guard by a foot. "What is it you need of me?"

"Cardinal Richelieu requests your presence at Palais-Cardinal."

"Tell his Eminence I shall attend him shortly," d'Artagnan nodded at the guard and waited for him to leave. As soon as he turned back around, d'Artagnan faced three sets of concerned looks all aimed at him. "If Richelieu needs me to do his dirty work and has not talked this over with King Louis I will go to His Majesty first thing."

"Make sure to do that," Athos grim look spoke for all the inseparables.

"I promise," d'Artagnan whispered and went up the stairs to inform the captain.

Noting an odd look on Porthos' face, Aramis asked, "Is something wrong? Aside from the fact d'Artagnan's been summoned by Richelieu that is."

"Do ya ever notice what runts these Red Guards are?"

"Parbleu!" Athos shook his head and trailed after d'Artagnan.

++++

_Palais-Cardinal_

"You made good time, d'Artagnan," Richelieu acknowledged with a small dip of his head. He was in his usual chair, behind his desk, but sitting sideways to accommodate his left leg which was extended out in front of him resting on a small footstool piled high with cushions. Waving to his ankle, Richelieu looked up at the boy. "A sleight accident as you know," he winced as a sharp pain radiated from his foot into his ankle as he shifted in his chair. "Do not worry about this visit," Richelieu studied the youngster for a moment. He'd be a fool to not think d'Artagnan wouldn't hotfoot it over to Louis first chance he got if Richelieu's request were anything other than honorable. "King Louis knows you are here."

"Pardon me if I go ahead and check on that as soon as we are finished here," d'Artagnan retorted sharply.

"You do not trust me," Richelieu arched his eyebrow as he chuckled at the lad.

"Do not pretend to be surprised about that," d'Artagnan shot back.

"Non, I am not," Richelieu brushed a finger lightly over his mustache. "Tonight Their Majestys are to entertain some prominent figures. Two of which are a Spanish ambassador along with his aide. I want you there as part of the king's personal guard detail," Richelieu could see that the youngster hadn't expected that. "Keep your eyes open and if the Spanish try anything," he smirked, "do whatever needs done. Understood?"

"Oui," d'Artagnan nodded. "I will see what King Louis has to say upon the matter."

Letting d'Artagnan's last remark slide, Richelieu grimaced. "While on your way out tell one of my guards to send up my pain draught."

"Of course." As d'Artagnan left he couldn't help the rush of gladness he felt at the cardinal's discomfort.

++++

_Royal Palace - evening_

After confirming with the king, d'Artagnan readied himself for tonight's festivities. He had found out that the inseparables would also be stationed in the ballroom along with a mixture of other Musketeers and Red Guards.

It wasn't d'Artagnan's business to know who the guests were, his duty was to protect Their Majestys as he stationed himself by King Louis' side. Since tonight the king would be entertaining Spanish guests, Captain Treville thought it better to point out to d'Artagnan who the representative was along with the man's aide. They would be d'Artagan's main focus this evening, aside from the king's protection.

Surveying the ballroom, d'Artagnan could see that no expense had been spared in preparation for tonight. His eyes alighted on the huge buffet table teeming with all types of appealing delicacies. D'Artagnan's favorite by far was the massive chocolate fountain, which being the centerpiece, was surrounded with all manner of fruit ready to be dipped into its brown sweetness. He hoped to get a taste of it after this event came to an end.

So a boring hour and a half passed with nothing untoward happening, and d'Artagnan was actually wishing that would change. That is, until d'Artagnan spotted something shiny tucked inside the red sash wrapped around the waist of the Spanish ambassador's aide.

Seeing that the aide was starting to reach for it, d'Artagnan could now tell that the object was a Spanish dagger and took immediate action without ever moving from his protective position by the king. Focusing all his energy on the chocolate fountain, which the aide was standing beside, d'Artagnan smiled as he visualized the time he sprayed Aramis with water from the lake. Making a fist he then splayed his fingers wide, wiggling them slightly as he made the chocolate flow upward and out of the fountain toward the assassin bathing the aide in a chocolate mess.

Observing the catastrophe unfolding before his eyes, King Louis was about to go to his guests and apologize profusely. His first thought was that perhaps the fountain's mechanism was defected. If that were the case someone's head would roll. Well maybe not, but someone was going to get an earful from him. When King Louis started to leave the dais he was prevented from doing so when d'Artagnan's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Non, sire," d'Artagnan ordered quietly. "Stay here."

"D'Artagnan?" King Louis realized then that there was more going on than a mere broken fountain. "Am I or the queen in danger?"

"Not anymore." Not wanting to leave His Majesty's side, d'Artagnan waved to the inseparables and pointed to the man covered from head to toe in chocolate. "Get him! He's an assassin!"

Wasting no time, the inseparables surrounded the aide. The three soldiers all spotted the dagger at the same time.

"Who wants to get sticky fingers?" Aramis glanced at his comrades as both men frowned back at him. Shrugging, Aramis reached out and plucked the weapon from its hiding place. Holding it away from his person with two fingers, Aramis watched the dagger drip chocolate all over the tiled floor. "Anyone have a towel?"

While that was being taken care of, Athos and Porthos secured the man's hands behind his back. Both Musketeers stared at their gloves now covered with the sweet confection.

Disgusted, Athos took his off and tossed them on the floor while he watched in amusement as Porthos licked the chocolate off his own gloves instead.

"Damn! That's fine chocolate!" Porthos grinned and winked at d'Artagnan who still stood on the dais where he was explaining to the king what he had done.

Whispering in the lad's ear, King Louis slapped d'Artagnan's back. "I will never look at a chocolate fountain in the same manner again," he laughed. "Quite clever, young man." Turning his head sideways, King Louis caught Richelieu's eye. "Wouldn't you say, Cardinal?"

Sitting beside the king's chair, his leg propped up, the cardinal nodded in approval. "The only thing spilled this night was the chocolate."

"Beats blood anytime, Richelieu," King Louis grinned and wrapped an arm around d'Artagnan's shoulders.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Next day, early morning - Garrison courtyard_

After the events of last evening, the inseparables and d’Artagnan gathered for their usual practice sessions after having eaten a hearty breakfast courtesy of Serge’s kitchen.

“Eh, whelp,” Porthos threw a companionable arm across d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “Ya did good last night,” he grinned. “I especially appreciated the chocolate treat.”

“I’ll say,” Aramis laughed. “By the time he was done licking the chocolate from his fingers, Porthos’ mustache and beard were covered with the stuff.”

“King Louis pulled me aside to thank me and I must have missed that,” d’Artagnan flashed a quick grin over at the sheepish Porthos.

“What did they do with the Spanish assassin?” Athos did not bother to question Captain Treville over the matter as he was more concerned with making sure there were no other Spaniards ready to pop out from underneath the buffet tables to try their luck at killing His Majesty.

“In the Bastille for now," d’Artagnan replied matter of fact. “He’ll be move to the Chatelet shortly and then Cardinal Richelieu told me the Spanish aide would then face execution for his attempted assassination of the king.”

“Last night is over and done with as far as I'm concerned,” Aramis remarked. “Instead,” he unsheathed his rapier and tapped it lightly on d’Artagnan’s chest, “I think you and I need to test our blades against one another,” his brown eyes sparkled with anticipation of their sparring to come.

“Ready anytime you are, _old man_ ,” d’Artagnan grinned at the scowl instantly appearing on Aramis’ handsome features at his teasing. Glancing over at Athos he winked at his mentor and couldn’t help but see Athos’ lips twitch as the elder man fought off smiling himself. “So, Athos, are you and Porthos going to place bets on one of us besting the other?”

“My purse is light,” Porthos reluctantly admitted. He couldn’t help but grimace as Athos pointed out that his purse was always light.

Whispering in the lad’s ear, Aramis told him something he was to have kept to himself. “He won’t say so but the other night Porthos actually lost playing cards against Nicolas.”

“Porthos!” d’Artagnan turned to face his dark-skinned brother. “You rarely lose," he was shocked.

“Mis!” Porthos growled, annoyed at his friend. “Ya weren’t supposed ta say anything about that.”

“Oops,” Aramis laughed, not the least put out that Porthos was mad at him. For it wouldn't be the first time nor the last.

“Nicolas cheated anyways,” Porthos grunted in displeasure, remembering how he felt being bested by the younger Musketeer and the rounds of congratulations from his fellow brothers to Nicolas. He didn’t stay very long after that. It was rather humiliating to hear his comrades saying it was about time someone ended Porthos’ winning streak.

“Pot meet kettle,” Athos murmured in that dead panned way of his.

“Yeah, whatever,” Porthos grumbled, not daring to peek at his friends for fear of the reaction on their faces.

Treville, who had heard nearly every word of his men’s discussion from his perch on top of the balcony, came down to join them. “You’ll have to forego your daily routine this fine morn, gents.” He saw Aramis and d’Artagnan instantly resheath their swords at his words. “I need all four of you on patrol duty.” Treville wasn’t pleased to see expressions of distaste on the inseparable’s faces. D’Artagnan’s was the only one that showed a measure of interest and something else that Treville wasn’t quite sure of.

“Walking the streets of Paris ain’t my favorite thing ta do,” Porthos complained in a low tone to Aramis.

“Ah,” Aramis gave a dreamy sigh, “but think of the lovely Mademoiselles we may run into.”

“Or Madames,” Athos put in dryly with a roll of his blue eyes.

“That too,” Aramis grinned, not in the least shy about having it known he preferred either variety.

“I think we’ve gotten off topic,” Treville said gruffly. Eyeing the boy again he asked, “D’Artagnan, do you have a prior engagement that would prevent you from being with your brothers? For you have the look of weighty matters on your conscience.”

Frowning, d’Artagnan bit his lip. “Uh, er, I was supposed to go over some new techniques with Lohier today.”

“I see,” and Treville did understand that the lad’s training was of the utmost importance, but things have reached a head and he needed his best soldiers on the case for this one. “I know your lessons are of great import, but I will see that Comte Babineaux is told that for today they will be forestalled.”

“What is it we’re supposed to be looking for,” Athos enquired.

“It has come to my attention this past week that there are a group of ruffians frequenting many of our cities taverns and inns who are doing their level best to shake down the owners of those establishments for lucrative gain.”

“And you would like us to capture those individuals?” Athos nodded in understanding.

“I would be pleased if you could,” Treville frowned, “but these canailles appear to be a slippery lot,” he huffed. “Any pertinent information you could glean would be of great help at this point.”

“Ya don’t believe we’ll find em’?” Porthos asked in surprise. They had a reputation for bringing in nearly every scumbag they were sent after.

“I’ve about given up,” Treville replied truthfully. “You’ve had other concerns of late and so I assigned other squads to the task but they’ve all come back empty handed.”

“I don’t much like being the last resort,” Aramis glanced at Porthos, the latter merely shrugged.

“Aramis,” Athos’ dark look was meant to silence his brother as he observed the tightening of their captain’s lips. Seeing Aramis slap his hat back on his head, turn away to retrieve his weapons from the bench and not say anything further meant Athos’ message was received loud and clear.

“I say let’s get on with it then,” d’Artagnan grinned at his brothers.

“That’s the spirit, son,” Treville nodded in approval that the lad was ready to delve right into it.

“Since we are now _all_ in agreement,” Athos glared at Porthos and Aramis, “let us traverse the fine streets of Paris."

++++

_The Parisian streets_

“How many taverns and pubs have we hit now?” Porthos’ feet actually ached from all the walking they had done. Up one end and down the other of most of the establishments that lined the streets and some that didn’t. 

“Mmmmm,” Aramis hummed, “let’s see.” With a quick look at d’Artagnan and Athos he said, “We were at the Dame Silencieuse, Licorne Blanche, Griffin Noir,” then Aramis hesitated, scrunching up his face in concentration. “Hmmpf, I’ve forgotten the rest.”

“There was the Dauphin Gris and Rose et la Couronne,” d’Artagnan added helpfully.

“And the Pelle et Botte,” Athos finished. “All re-known taverns in the district.”

Scratching at his beard, Porthos sighed. “Still gotta go to all those inns yet.”

“We don’t have to visit them _all_ , Porthos,” d’Artagnan smiled. “We’re just going to the popular ones.”

“Oui,” Aramis nodded. “Like the Rai d’Or, Le Tertre, l'Olea, La Bastide Rose,” he stopped as Porthos held up his fist.

“That’s more than enough for now,” Porthos grunted. “Don’t wanna hear anymore.” His friend’s laughter surrounded him as he gave them all a sheepish grin in turn.

“Let’s head for La Bastide Rose first,” d’Artagnan glanced at each of his brothers to see if they were all in agreement.

“Fine then,” Athos nodded and led the way.

+++++

_La Bastide Rose Inn_

"You know the routine, split up," Athos ordered his brothers.

"What for this time?" Porthos growled but then saw that _ornery_ _look_ Athos would get in his eyes and backed off. "Yeah, I got it. But everyone I meet looks suspicious ta me lately."

After about a half an hour the inseparables met up again near the entrance, all except d'Artagnan.

"Anyone find anything of interest?" Athos asked them.

"Naw," Porthos shook his head.

"Aside from a little old lady trying to fleece me out of a few coins," Aramis grinned, "non."

Looking around the area Athos frowned. "Where is d'Artagnan?" He didn't see his protégé anywhere. Then without warning a body flew out of a room above them, from the upper level of the inn, to sail right over the balcony crashing on top of several dining tables on the ground level where they were presently located.

"I think we found d'Artagnan," Aramis rolled his eyes.

"Yup!" Porthos agreed. "Has all the earmarks of our whelp that's for sure."

Leaning over the balcony looking near to passing out was d'Artagnan. "I don't feel so well," he moaned down to them as he gripped the balcony tightly with both hands. Closing his eyes, he didn't notice Athos and Aramis racing up the staircase to lend him aid.

Porthos stayed below with the man d'Artagnan had dealt with figuring he was one of the gang members they were after. "How's the kid?" he shouted up to his brothers.

"Weak," Aramis hollered back. "Thought you had a handle on this, d'Artagnan," the marksman whispered in the boy's ear.

"Did something different this time," d'Artagnan wheezed. "Pushed him too hard with my mind."

"Mon dieu!" Athos scowled, irritated beyond measure with their youngest. "No wonder the canaille imitated a bird in flight." Helping Aramis steady the youngster back on his feet, Athos chided gently. "Was it worth suffering for, chiot?"

"It was at the time," d'Artagnan retorted, leaning against Aramis for support as a bout of dizziness assailed him. "Give me a moment or two and I'll be all right."

"That remains to be seen," Athos snapped. Leaning over the balcony, Athos watched as Porthos lifted the unconscious man from the debris. "We will have to wait for him to wake up to question him."

"Or I could just throw a bucket of water on em," Porthos chuckled.

"Or that," Athos nodded.

++++

_Notes:_

Thanks Ebm36 for the help with the names I couldn't find translations for. I've put them down here and fixed the other one as well.

 _Rai d'Or_ is actually a name of a French tavern but I used it in my story as an inn. It means _ray of gold_.  
_Le Tertre, l'Olea and La Bastide Rose_ are actual names of French inns but they wouldn't translate in English using the translation site from the internet so I have no idea what they mean. They just sounded nice. LOL! But Ebm36 has just kindly given me a translation for La Bastide which means little fortified town, Le Tertre means a very little hill and apparently I was supposed to have used l'Olea which means live tree. So I kindly thank her for those translations.  
The other tavern names that I used were a hodge podge of ones I looked up on the internet and liked the sound of. Using the English French translation site from the internet I gave them the French version of their names.  
_Licorne Blanche_ \- White Unicorn; _Dame Silencieuse_ \- Silent Lady; _Griffin Noir_ \- Black Griffin; _Dauphin Gris_ \- Grey Dolphin; _Rose et la Couronne_ \- Rose and Crown and _Pelle et Botte_ \- Shovel and Boot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_La Bastide Rose Inn_

While Aramis tended to d'Artagnan in one of the many rooms within the inn, Porthos had dragged the man d'Artagnan had fought with outside to the back alley. Athos had filled a bucket of water from the kitchen that one of the maids had so kindly provided and brought it out to his friend. So hefting it over the unconscious man's head, Porthos dumped its contents and watched as it fell like a waterfall on the canaille's head.

The man spluttered, waved his arms about and shouted out in distress. "What the hell!" he wiped water from his eyes and when his vision cleared he noticed two Musketeers glaring at him, looking like they'd like nothing better than to take him apart. "Where's the kid?"

"To whom do you refer?" Athos tilted his head to the side as he studied this riffraff.

"I don't know his name, just some kid that I was arguing with," he rubbed his neck. "Feels like I've been worked over with someone's fist."

Cracking his knuckles, Porthos grinned. "Not yet. But I ain't in a hurry," he growled. "But if I don't like the answer to our questions I'll give you a new meaning to being _worked over_."

Placing a friendly hand on Porthos' arm, Athos smiled. "Now is that anyway to treat the man?"

"I suppose you want to throw em' a party?" Porthos frowned.

"Not particularly," Athos replied. "Still, we do need to find out about those shake downs taking place," he stabbed the man who was soaked to the skin with a sharp look. “Might as well start with him I suppose.”

As soon as the man heard the words _shake down_ he wanted to get as far away from these Musketeers as possible. But seeing the size of the dark-skinned one didn't fill him with enough confidence that he could get away Scott free. "I ain't got nothin' to say about any of that," he got to his feet, nearly slipping from the water that pooled there. "I'm an honest citizen I am."

Athos drew close to him. "Well if you are such an _honest citizen_ do please tell us why our young friend thought it a good idea to throw you from the balcony?"

"We had a difference of opinion," he grinned which quickly turned into a look of fear as he noticed the larger Musketeer draw dangerously close to him.

"In other words, d'Artagnan found you trying to coerce the owners out of their hard earned coin," Athos drawled, turned to look at Porthos and shrugged. "Do what you will with him, mon ami," he patted Porthos on the back as he walked away to re-enter the inn.

Cracking his knuckles once more, Porthos backed the man up against the alley wall. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

++++

_Back inside the inn_

Checking on d'Artagnan, Athos quietly entered the upper level room. "Can the boy make it back to the garrison under his own power?" he looked with concern toward Aramis who was tenderly running his fingers through the lad's hair.

"Give us about ten more minutes and I believe d'Artagnan will be good to go," Aramis nodded at the elder Musketeer.

"Where's Porthos?" d'Artagnan muttered, missing the sight of his usually gregarious friend.

"Hopefully gaining the information we've been seeking," Athos said as he glowered at the youngster. "What were you thinking pushing yourself like that?" He had promised himself he wouldn't berate the boy but seeing d'Artagnan in the state he was in just made Athos all the more furious at the lad's actions this day. "You could have damaged yourself permanently and then what of us, eh?"

"Apologies," d'Artagnan whispered quietly and turned his face away from his mentor, only to find Aramis’ hand grasping his chin lightly. "Hey, Athos only scolds those he cares about."

"You know, chiot," Athos tone was dry, "you'll be the death of me yet," he chuckled. "And here I always thought I'd end my days going out in a blaze of glory on a battlefield for king and country."

"I do not want to see you _end_ your days for a very long time, Athos," d'Artagnan said meaningfully, his love for his brother shone in his soft, brown eyes. "I do not want to see any of you lose your lives any time soon because then I would be all alone, pitiful as that sounds," he sniffed as a tear fell from his eye.

"Mon Dieu!" Athos removed his hat and scrubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. "Aramis, get the pup off the bed. I'll feel better once we get him home."

Just as Aramis began to help the boy sit up, Porthos walked inside looking quite pleased with himself. "Find out anything?"

"Plenty," Porthos grinned devilishly. "But first," he glanced at the lad, "how ya feelin', d'Artagnan?"

"I've been better, but if you've been able to procure what we needed I'll dance a jig for you later if you’d like," he smiled as Porthos thought over what he said.

"Don't have to go that far," Porthos shook his head, "I've seen ya dance. It's the sorriest sight I've yet to witness."

"Could you _please_ tell us what you have discovered?" Athos snapped impatiently, wanting to be quit of this inn as quickly as possible.

"They number about seven in their gang," Porthos grunted, "now six considering we're gonna throw the one out in the alley in the Bastille," he laughed. "Head of the gang calls himself Estiene de Varade."

"Fancy name," Aramis mused as he steadied d'Artagnan who appeared ready to tilt over backward onto the bed. "Any other useful information?"

"Uh huh," Porthos nodded. "He and the rest of em' hole up in an abandoned house just outside of Paris."

"Where did you leave our new friend?" Athos went over to give Aramis a hand with their youngest.

"His name's Martin, and I left him all tied up nice like,” Porthos grinned, “almost like a wrapped Christmas present waitin’ ta be opened.”

"By all means," Athos' eyes sparked with amusement, "let us bring Treville his _present_."

++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

Looking the worse for wear, Martin sat in front of the captain’s desk uncomfortably surrounded by the inseparables. D’Artagnan had been left in the capable hands of Doctor Devereaux, the regiment’s physician.

“de Varade,” Treville rubbed his chin as he glared at the sorry excuse of a Parisian. “Must be a new player for I have never heard the name before. “Will you take us to their hideout?”

“What do I get for squealin’?” Martin asked gruffly. His eyes darted to and fro between the three Musketeers standing guard over him, and he thought perhaps it would have been better if he had kept his trap shut.

Bending down, his nose nearly touching that of the crooks, Treville’s breath ghosted over Martin’s face. “You get to keep your life,” he snorted. “For whatever that is worth.”

“Not much,” Porthos snickered, earning twin smiles from his two brethren.

“I still get thrown into the Bastille?” Scrunching up his face in displeasure, Martin was careful this time in how he questioned the captain.

“Oui!” Treville barked. “What do you think?”

Hanging his head down, Martin grumbled. “Very well. I’ll take you to them.”

Thumping the man on the back of his head, Porthos growled. “Our petite frere lies hurt in the infirmary cause of you, scallywag.”

“You are lucky to remain with your head attached firmly to your shoulders,” Athos’ wry tone was not lost on Treville nor his brothers.

Grunting, Martin muttered, “If ya say so.”

Glancing at Treville’s set face, Athos stepped forward. “May we check on d’Artagnan before leaving? If he is well I know the boy would like to come with us.”

“See to it,” Treville replied briskly. “I’ll have the stable hands ready our horses.”

++++

_Infirmary_

Seeing the morose features d’Artagnan wore, Athos worried the pup suffered from a hidden injury none of them had noticed. Pulling Deveraux aside, Athos whispered, “Why does the boy look like that?”

“The young man’s mood deteriorated rapidly once you three left him in my care,” Devereaux’s gaze encompassed the inseparable’s concern. “D’Artagnan confided in me that he believes he is not fit to wear his pauldron.”

“Parbleu!” Aramis hissed.

“Damn hairbrained kid!” Porthos growled while Athos, well the leader of their tight-knit group did what he always does best... remained silent, building up a good head of steam.

Aramis knew how Athos would react and wanted to head off the explosion before it began. “Athos,” he placed a hand on his friend’s chest. “Our _brat_ isn’t thinking clearly,” he smiled. “Cut him some slack.”

Shaking off Aramis’ hand, Athos slowly approached the whelp’s bedside. As he stared down at the boy he had grown to swiftly love, he sighed and bent his head. “What would make you feel that you are not worthy of being a Musketeer any longer?”

Rolling over on his side to face Athos, d’Artagnan took in the disappointment written on his mentor’s face. “Everytime I try to use my abilities when it really counts I end up flat on my back,” he snorted. “What good am I doing as a Musketeer that way if this keeps happening?”

“If this is the outcome of your training with Comte Babineaux,” Athos shared a speaking look with his other brothers, “I will call a halt to them myself.”

Sitting up at that news, d’Artagnan’s mouth opened but nothing came out when he saw Athos’ finger in his face.

“Do not try my patience any longer, chiot!” Athos snapped.

“The king’s depending on me,” d’Artagnan whined.

“Be that as it may,” Athos huffed with a roll of his eyes, “you are no good to anyone _dead_!”

“ _Dead_?” Porthos repeated in shock.

Not turning around to glance at his large friend, Athos nodded. “Which is what will happen sooner or later if the boy continues on in this manner.”

“I have to learn to control my powers quickly,” d’Artagnan whispered even though the doctor had left the infirmary to let them talk in private. It was a stroke of good fortune that he was the only patient occupying the room for the moment.

“Not at the price of your health,” Athos countered swiftly.

“But, Athos,” d’Artagnan’s soulful eyes pleaded for understanding with the elder Musketeer, “if war breaks out between France and Spain think on it. I could help end the conflict quickly before too much blood is shed,” he reached out a hand toward Athos to grasp his mentor’s doublet, drawing his friend closer to his side. “I could bring _peace_ to the monarchy then.”

“Pfft,” Aramis scoffed. “Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of God no matter the conflict.” He leaned casually against the wall with his arms folded as his eyes locked with d’Artagnan’s.

“Ah,” Porthos shook a finger in the air, “there speaks the _priest_.” He was amused at the face Aramis pulled at his teasing comment.

Athos ignored both men as he perched on the side of the bed, leaning over the boy forcing d'Artagnan on his back, to stare intensely into the lad's wary eyes. He would drive his point home if it killed both of them. “Listen to me, pup!” Athos pinched d’Artagnan’s chin sharply to gain his attention. “You are the _best_ of us,” Athos saw the lad’s eyes open wide at that. “When you unsheath your blade and fight an opponent... you are technically _me_. When you wrestle someone down to the ground... you’re imitating _Porthos_...”

“Or cheating some poor sod at cards,” Aramis snickered as Porthos punched him in the arm.

“And whenever you fire your pistol or musket remember you’re channeling... _Aramis_.”

“You’re all of us, whelp, whether you like it or not,” Porthos grinned. “We’re right proud of that fact.”

“On top of it all, you have God given abilities that some would kill to possess,” Aramis added quietly.

“Your star shines so bright now tis nearly blinding,” Athos admitted proudly. “Soon you’ll outshine us all.”

“Oye! Enough of this sentimental clap trap!” Porthos’ deep voice boomed. “We got ourselves a gang of thieves to capture.” Looking at the youngster he winked. “Up to it, whelp?”

“After that pep talk of Athos’,” d’Artagnan grinned, “I better be.” Sitting up, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up beside his mentor. Seeing all three of his brothers watching him, he placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor I will not overtax myself.”

“Ya better not,” Porthos warned. “Ain’t no livin’ with Athos once he gets up on his high horse an all.”

“Porthos," Athos’ dry tone warned of retribution if his brother didn't cease trying to pull his tail.

So it was with lighter spirits that all four men left the infirmary to join their captain.

++++

_Note:_

The phrase I used: _Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of God no matter the conflict,_ I found in some material I was reading and was by Anonymous.

It sounded like something Aramis would say, so I added it in this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes below:
> 
> ++++

_Approximately three miles out of Paris_

Aside from the inseparables and d’Artagnan, Treville had brought along a company of eight other Musketeers. He wasn’t about to take any chances that these cut-purses would escape. Signaling to his men Treville watched as they quietly surrounded the broken down house that Martin had led them to. “Ideas, gents?” Treville glanced over at Athos, Porthos, Aramis and lastly d’Artagnan for possible recommendations on their plan of action.

“I can approach the house and pretend I’m lost,” d’Artagnan offered with a hopeful smile at his captain. “This way you’ll have a man established inside.”

“I don’t like it,” Porthos grunted throwing an angry look at their pup for suggesting it. Seeing the fierce gaze Aramis directed at the lad, Porthos knew his brother felt along the same lines.

“I think it an excellent idea,” Athos voiced, much to the shock of his friends and d’Artagnan.

“I agree,” Treville nodded in approval. “Once d’Artagnan gains access to the home I wouldn’t be in the least surprised to see the occupants come running out for their lives into our waiting arms.”

“Pardon,” Aramis glared at them, “but are you out of your mind?”

Brow arched high, Athos sardonically asked, “Which one of us do you refer too? I or Captain Treville?” his tone dryer than a sand storm.

His irritated gazed bounced between his captain and his friend as Aramis’ lips tightened further. “Both!”

“Are you questioning our judgment?” Treville snapped. “It was after all d’Artagnan’s suggestion.”

“If d’Artagnan uses his abilities in there surely they’ll know the lad was responsible,” Aramis argued. “Even if we captured them alive they could blab what they saw to anyone who’d care to listen.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grumbled. “Then where would our whelp be eh?” He too glared at Athos and his captain. “Bad enough Richelieu has threatened ta tell everyone that d’Artagnan’s a witch and that the king’s conspiring with our pup ifin’ he don’t play along with the cardinal,” he shook a large finger at Athos. “Thought you cared about em’.”

Rolling his eyes, d’Artagnan gazed at Porthos and Aramis fondly, thankful for caring brothers such as these. “My thanks for trying to protect me, but I’ll be careful not to let them realize I’m doing anything.”

“You promised us to not overtax yourself,” Aramis reminded the youngster. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I have faith our chiot will keep that promise,” Athos sent the boy an encouraging look.

“I still don’t like it none,” Porthos’ voice was filled with emotion. He was very much afraid if he said anything further that any harsh words spoken to the captain or Athos now couldn’t be called back later and then Porthos would be more than regretting having touched upon the matter.

Removing his pauldron and doublet, d’Artagnan carefully handed them off to Athos and Treville. “Can’t go calling as a Musketeer now can I?” he sent a cheeky grin to all of them. Though Aramis and Porthos refrained from trying to hold him back, d’Artagnan noticed their body language as both men sat rigidly in their saddles. Disapproval radiated off of them in waves that even a blind man could see.

“Bon chance,” Athos offered with a slight smile, watching his protégé head into the lion’s den.

++++

Knocking on the door, d’Artagnan tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. This would work he thought. He’d make sure of it this time. His main priority was to make sure his abilities didn’t get the best of him. As he waited impatiently, d’Artagnan was finally rewarded when the door slowly creaked open. Trying to peer inside was a challenge as the lone figure at the door blocked his view. “Adiu.” D’Artagnan waited a second or two longer and when the man didn’t respond in kind he tried again. “Que m’aperi, d’Artagnan.”

“Yer a Gascon?” the gruff voice asked, though he knew the answer already by the young man’s accent alone.

“Oui,” he nodded eagerly, trying to put this fellow at ease.

“Yer lost or what?”

Trying to appear as if he were a lost soul, d’Artagnan nodded his head. The man he was talking too glanced over his shoulder. Clearly someone was voicing an opinion to the man though d’Artagnan couldn’t make out the words.

“Kid’s lost,” the man shouted back to someone else in the house.

Taking the advantage, d’Artagnan more or less pushed his way past the man he was engaged with and using his most innocent expression tried to appear harmless as the _chiot_ his brothers always claimed him to be.

“Tumas, what’s going on?”

Pointing to d’Artagnan, Tumas shrugged. “kid says he’s lost. Must be a stranger to these parts as far as I can tell.”

“Let him be _lost_ someplace else,” Brandan roughtly suggested, “before the boss gets wind of this.”

“Yeah and if Martin don’t get back soon it’ll be his head on the choppin’ block,” Peire eyed the boy as if he knew the kid was trouble.

“Said his name was d’Artagnan,” Tumas glanced at the youngster, wondering what to do with him. Even though Brandan just told him to send the lad on his way, Tumas hated to think of anyone, especially this young man, being on his own in these parts.

“How’d ye find that out?” Pol asked from his perch on a rickety old chair that had one leg threatening to break in two.

“Escusats-me,” d’Artagnan interrupted as he glanced at Tumas with an anxious look, “parlats lo Gascon?”

Sheepishly Tumas grinned as he risked a glance at Pol and then back to the boy. “O, un chic.”

Hands on his hips as he stood up, Pol cocked his head listening in on the exchange. “Bien?”

“Worked a little here or there throughout Gascony when I was younger,” Tumas explained to his suspicious comrade.

“Kid’s gotta go,” Lazare announced, not pleased with this boy hanging around.

As the gang members were trying to figure out what to do with him, d’Artagnan stood slightly apart from the men and closed his eyes, fisted his right hand and flexed his fingers. Then spreading them apart he pushed at the air circulating ever so slightly, letting his energy flow downward into the earth beneath the house.

Instantly the building began to tremble, shaking everything and everyone inside. A few pictures hanging on the wall crashed to the floor. Canisters sitting on shelves fell from their haphazardly stacked positions. Cracks began to form down the walls as the gang gave each other frightened looks. It wasn’t until a huge crack began to zig zag its way across the floor, splitting the house nearly in half, that the men realized the danger they were in.

“What the hell’s happening?” Brandan shouted above the din created from the house falling down around their ears.

Pol, who had sat back down again, had fallen off the old chair as it finally gave way to the tremors in the house breaking into little pieces leaving him on the floor in a daze.

“I dunno but ain’t hangin’ around here any longer!” Peire shouted as he frantically ran outside with the others hot on his heels.

Being the last one left, d’Artagnan’s laughter rang joyously into the air, like sunshine greeting the morning day. Leaning casually against the door frame he observed his brothers arresting the group of canailles as they surrounded the gang of cut-purses.

Captain Treville sent d’Artagnan a pleased smile as he helped his soldiers secure the criminals. While Athos tipped his hat at the lad and Porthos winked. But it was Aramis who slowly approached their youngest with concern filling his eyes.

“Feeling all right?” Aramis’ gaze swept over d’Artagnan, looking for signs of fatigue and pain. Seeing none, he let out a relaxed breath.

“I’m _fine_ ,” d’Artagnan emphasized to the medic.

Pushing his hat back, Aramis smirked at the whelp’s reply. “I’ve heard that one time too many from you, mon petite frere.”

“Honestly,” d’Artagnan gave him his best _puppy_ _stare_ , “it’s all good.” Looking past Aramis’ shoulder he winced as it now dawned on d’Artagnan what suspicions this may create among the other Musketeers in attendance. “What of our other brothers?”

“They assumed it was a minor earthquake and took it all in stride,” Aramis’ mischievous brown eyes twinkled. “Similar to what you did before even though that was unintentional.” Placing an arm across the younger man’s shoulder, Aramis hugged him close. “First time we’ve caught a gang like this without a shot being fired,” he grinned. “Thanks to you.”

“We still have to get their leader de Varade,” d’Artagnan reminded his comrade.

“Oui,” Aramis nodded. “But when he realizes his entire gang’s in the Bastille I somehow think he’ll be easier to catch.”

“D’Artagnan can chase em’ into our waitin’ arms like he just did with de Varade’s thugs,” Porthos whispered as he joined them, nudging the boy in the side. “Good job, whelp.”

Ducking his head, d’Artagnan’s hair hid most of his face as he blushed. Feeling a light touch sweeping it away from his forehead, he glanced up to encounter his mentor’s proud eyes.

“Good thing our men only thought d’Artagnan was a ruse to see how many were actually in the house and assess the situation,” Athos spoke for their ears only.

“Ready, gents,” Treville slapped the boy on the back, well pleased with today’s outcome. As they headed back to their mounts Treville held d’Artagnan back. “I’ll make sure King Louis hears of this.”

“Merci, sir,” d’Artagnan’s infernal blushing continued as his face heated up once more.

“Whelp’s bein’ bashful again,” Porthos chuckled as he teased the lad kindly.

“This should please Lohier no end,” Athos remarked drolly, rolling his eyes. His feelings about d’Artagnan’s lessons were still bothering him but for the moment he would not share them with Treville as yet.

“Athos,” d’Artagnan’s tone warned the older Musketeer to tread softly where Comte Babineaux was concerned. “He has taught me much.” Hearing Athos’ quietly muttered  _Hmmpt_ was enough to let d’Artagnan know what the man thought of his teacher. Though he couldn’t blame Athos nor his brothers since they had been witnesses to the strain d’Artagnan’s lessons had put him under.

Trying to gauge the pup’s expression, Athos promised himself to be vigilant in the future where their youngest was concerned. If the time came to choose between d’Artagnan’s life and their duty to the crown, well then the monarchy would come out a poor second.

++++

_Notes:_

I had the Gascon translation site and lost it and my paper and Hobbleit kindly gave it to me as she had just recently used it as well. So now I have it once more. Though it didn’t show very much. It starts to get rather complicated when you go to other sites and they talk about the Romance Languages and not specifically Gascon. So am just using a few phrases that worked for me in this story.

_Gascon translations:_

_Adiu_ – hello  
 _Que m’aperi_ – my name is  
 _Escusats-me_ – excuse me  
 _Parlats lo Gascon_ – do you speak Gascon  
 _O, un chic_ – yes, a little


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to be winding this story down shortly. So this chapter will set the tone.
> 
> ++++

_Same day, early evening - Royal Palace_

"So, Treville," King Louis began prancing about his throne room, giddy with his regiment's recent victory in locating the gang of cut-purses led by Estiene de Varade. When he finally came back down to Earth long enough to hold a serious conversation, King Louis clapped his captain on the back. "And it was all due to d'Artagnan's capabilities?"

"He got a foot in the door at de Varade's hideout by pretending to be a lost boy from Gascony." Treville was pleased the lad had taken the initiative and ran with it to its obvious conclusion.

"Are those criminals all now in the Bastille?"

"When word spread to de Varade that all of his gang had been placed under arrest, he hightailed it out of Paris and right into our waiting arms," Treville grinned remembering the look on de Varade's face when the crook was brought to his office. "I had positioned my men in key areas of known escape routes out of the city."

Nodding his head in approval, King Louis said, "Compliment d'Artagnan for me on a job very well done, Treville."

"I will, sire." Treville was about to ask His Majesty when de Varade and his men would stand trial for their crimes but never got the chance as Cardinal Richelieu strode in, unannounced as usual.

Stopping abruptly at the sight of Treville with the king, Richelieu chose his words carefully. "I heard of d'Artagnan's success," he glanced between the two silent men. "One less gang of thieves to worry about," he stated with a cold look in his eyes. "Since the captain is already here this will suffice as good a time as any to inform you both that I will be requiring the boy's expertise with a slightly troublesome problem on my own behalf."

"Right now d'Artagnan won't be of any use to anyone," Treville's eyes narrowed as they fell on the cardinal's unbelieving stare. Holding up his hand, he forestalled further inquiries as he fired back, "The boy's back in the infirmary again."

"Will he be well, Treville?" King Louis' eyes locked on his beloved captain's.

"The lad did not push his abilities this time because of how it's backfired on him before," Treville sighed, concern for his youngest Musketeer upper most in his thoughts. "Still, after we made our arrests and rode away d'Artagnan let out a pained sound and grabbed his head with both hands, instantly going limp and falling off his horse in the process."

"So, d'Artagnan's injury is minor," Richelieu was relieved for his own sake not the Musketeer's, "due to his fall?"

"Non," Treville snapped, glaring at the supposed man of the cloth. "The lad was unconscious, bleeding from his nose and was white as a proverbial sheet," he huffed. "We managed somehow to get d'Artagnan seated in front of Athos and raced back here."

Reading the look on Treville's face, King Louis guessed what was coming next. For himself he could live with the outcome. Giving Richelieu a sideways glance, King Louis bit his lip. He doubted the cardinal would be so accepting though.

"Comte Babineaux had told us that there are a few cases of Elementals that can't use their abilities once they reach a certain age because they could harm themselves and if not careful they could end up dead."

Pacing around the room, Richelieu was not a happy man. Holding up a slender finger in the air he stopped walking and turned to face the captain. "Then you are saying d'Artagnan can never be allowed to use the powers that God's good graces bestowed upon him?"

"Growing up d'Artagnan only played with his abilities in a very small way. He was more or less afraid of being found out and tried for being a witch," Treville stabbed the cardinal with an icy glare, remembering the threat Richelieu held over d'Artagnan's head as well as the king's. He studied the cardinal closely to see if he was understanding any of this and was pleased to see that Richelieu was receiving his message loud and clear. "It wasn't until Babineaux's lessons began to take a firm hold, showing d'Artagnan what he could truly accomplish, that the boy's problems began to crop up."

"Tell d'Artagnan not to worry himself over this," King Louis smiled. "I at least have Comte Babineaux in my pocket. If war ever comes he can lend France a helping hand," he threw Richelieu a shrewd look. "And you, sir, cannot _use_ him."

Flustered by His Majesty's declaration, Richelieu stood stock still between Treville and the king. At a loss for words over the outcome of this meeting Richelieu whirled around, his cape billowing out from behind him and left without even a farewell.

Reaching for a glass of wine, King Louis took a sip. "That went rather well," he arched an eyebrow, "don't you think so, Treville?"

"The Louvre is still in one piece if that's what you mean," Treville remarked dryly. Hearing the king's laughter, he allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

++++

_Infirmary_

Athos sat by d'Artagnan's bedside, head hanging down as if in prayer, one hand resting on the youngster's chest measuring the boy's breathing. He had ten years taken off his life today when d'Artagnan had cried out in agony and fell from his horse. Worse yet happened when Athos cradled the lad's head in his lap and blood poured freely from d'Artagnan's nose. Seeing Aramis deeply concerned over that himself did nothing for Athos' already frayed nerves. Earlier d'Artagnan had already told them he had not exerted any extra pressure on himself this time and Athos believed him. So he was taken completely unaware when this befell their young one.

"He'll be all right," Porthos' quiet, gruff voice filled the silent void in the infirmary. "Whelp's a stubborn Gascon and won't let this keep em' down for long."

"I do not care how _stubborn_ our pup is," Athos spat, trying not to raise his voice for fear of disturbing Devereaux's other patients. "Treville and I will be having words over this issue later."

"I'm one hundred percent behind you on this, Athos," Aramis agreed as he tried to relax in an old chair that had seen better days.

"Think d'Artagnan might have somethin' ta say about that?" Porthos glanced at his brothers curiously. "I mean, I'm agreein' with ya," he shrugged and glanced down at his petite frere, "but d'Artagnan may think otherwise."

"If the pain I witnessed passing over d'Artagnan's face was anything to go by," Athos noted how pale the lad still was and prayed the pup hadn't used up all his nine lives just yet, "I do not believe d'Artagnan will put up much of a fuss over the matter." He was exhausted as were his fellow brothers, but Athos' patience was finally rewarded when he heard d'Artagnan groan as the youngster tried to wake up. Leaning forward, Athos placed his hand on the boy's forehead and massaged gently. When a pair of bleary, brown eyes slowly opened to stare up at him in confusion, a slow smile spread across Athos' face. "Welcome back, child." 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Same day - Infirmary

"Welcome back?" d'Artagnan repeated, rather confused. 'Where have I been?" Closing his eyes as a sharp stab of pain ripped through his skull, he whimpered pitifully.

"D'Artagnan," Aramis whispered, fearing loud voices would only make it worse for the boy, "you passed out on us after we rounded up that gang of cut-purses."

"Don't ya remember, whelp?" Porthos sat on the edge of the youngster's bed, dipping it dangerously low due to his bulk. Seeing Athos glaring at him, Porthos frowned and stood back up again. "Chairs here are a might uncomfortable," he grumbled at Athos.

"As would d'Artagnan be if the lad ended up on the floor because of you," Athos drawled, seeing d'Artagnan staring at him oddly. "You haven't been really at top form since your lessons with Comte Babineaux."

"I remember everything now," d'Artagnan said in a voice filled with resignation. "Such is the failure of my life," he closed his eyes once more, turning his head away from his mentor. Suddenly feeling his shoulder gripped and shaken gently, d'Artagnan turned his head toward Athos' grim features. "Failing you hurts most of all."

"You have not _failed_ anyone, pup," Athos smiled, his blue eyes caring as they studied the young man who meant more to him than his own life. "I'm sure King Louis will be most understanding of your not being able to use your abilities."

"Certain of that are you?" d'Artagnan sniffed indignantly. "You're now a reader of minds all of a sudden?"

Cuffing the boy lightly on the chin, Aramis grinned. "He is just saying what we all feel. We will not let you risk your life in such a way any longer." Aramis stood by the bed looking down on the lad and shook his head. "I swear I nearly had heart failure when you fell from your horse," he huffed. "And Athos..." he trailed off and was going to let the rest unsaid but thought d'Artagnan needed to hear how this was affecting all of them, "if you had died right there and then, Athos would have followed you into the grave."

"Apologies," d'Artagnan murmured quietly, his eyes filling with unshed tears. "I do not mean to be a burden to any of you."

"Mon Dieu!" Athos instantly jumped out of his chair making it tilt precariously, crashing to the ground with a thunderous crack. It made such a commotion that Doctor Devereaux immediately came rushing over to see what had happened.

Frowning down at the broken remains, Devereaux glared at Athos' contrite face. "Do you know how hard it is to come by these chairs?"

"I know they're _hard_ to sit on," Porthos chuckled but could see the good doctor did not hear the humor in his words as Devereaux's brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Could you all _please_ visit with d'Artagnan like normal people?" Muttering to himself about noisy Musketeers that should be muffled, Devereaux left their side to tend to his other patients.

Waiting for the doctor to leave them, Athos' eyes flashed with fury at the lad. "You have never," he was seething inside from d'Artagnan's apology to them, "been a burden to us." He leaned down to look into the boy's pained features. "You have only given us another reason to carry on with our lives."

"Who would I have to talk with about poetry, women and life in general?" Aramis winked at their young one. "And not necessarily in that order."

"I wouldn't have anyone worthy enough to face me in hand-to-hand combat," Porthos admitted gruffly. "Or talk about my past adventures before becoming a Musketeer."

"You were a pirate," d'Artagnan whispered. "I always wanted to hear that story."

"Then get well, boy," Athos told him sternly. "It's a story worth hearing." He shared a quick glance with the larger man, knowing Porthos background nearly as well as he knew Aramis'. "And I, child," Athos gazed at his protégé fondly, "wouldn't have anyone to try and knock me on my ass during swordplay." Considering his next words carefully, Athos looked upon the youngster solemnly. "I know you won't like this, but I plan on talking with Treville about not letting this continue on," Athos stared at the floor for a moment, not being able to watch the reproach in d'Artagan's eyes as they lingered on him.

"Shouldn't this be my decision?" d'Artagnan, weak as he was, glared at the inseparables whom he felt were intent on ruining his life. After all he was the king's young champion. What good was he then if not being able to defend the monarchy? Though Athos did make sense in the long run. D'Artagnan couldn't carry on the way this was going for much longer but he wasn't going to admit that to his friends.

"NON!" Three voices spoke as one as they yelled out, earning them a heated glare from Devereaux who looked about ready to throw them all out the door, if not actually through the window.

Sliding back down beneath he sheets that covered him, d'Artagnan plucked at his blanket nervously. "Suppose King Louis disagrees with what you think after the captain confers with him?"

"Ya didn't see the captin's face when ya took a header from Zad," Porthos said. "Right terrified was he. Don't rightly think what Athos tells em' is gonna come as much of a surprise."

Bowing to the inevitable, d'Artagnan nodded slowly and then gasped as his head pained him anew and blood began to flow freely from his nostrils once more.

"Doctor!" Aramis cried out as he ran to grab some clean towels. Positioning himself on the bed with one knee on it, he bent over d'Artagnan and carefully wiped the pup's bloody nose. Concerned at the amount of blood continually pouring out, Aramis swore softly. "Merde!"

"No one has bothered telling me yet what type of injury d'Artagnan had sustained to bring this nosebleed about?" Devereaux looked at each of the Musketeers and waited impatiently for one of them to speak upon the matter. "I could not even locate a head injury that would promote this amount of blood loss," he chewed on his lip. "Speak up, men, if you want me to help the boy!"

"We can't tell em'," Porthos voiced to his brothers quietly.

"If we don't and the bleeding doesn't stop on its own we could lose d'Artagnan," Athos, ever the voice of reason, frantically glanced at his friends.

"Perhaps the good doctor doesn't have to be told everything," Aramis whispered while helping the boy. In the past the doctor had saved many of their lives and Aramis put his trust in the man thoroughly.

"The problem exists from within the lad's head," Athos blurted out, wondering how that pitiful explanation must have sounded to the doctor. "He exerted too much pressure on himself and the outcome was what you see before you."

Pensively studying the trio and how ill at ease they all appeared, Devereaux's gaze settled on the young man lying in his infirmary bed. He was a man of keen intelligence, otherwise he would have never been able to become a physician. Helping the lad to sit up straighter he then tilted d'Artagnan's head forward. "Do you feel any blood in your mouth?"

"Non," d'Artagnan weakly shook his head at the question while holding a towel to his nose. That minute shake of his head had d'Artagnan wishing he hadn't acknowledged the doctor's question as a wave of dizziness passed over him.

"Aramis, I need you to pinch d'Artagnan's nostrils together with your index finger and thumb for at least ten minutes and do not release them any earlier than that." Seeing the question in Aramis' eyes, Devereaux added, "This will help in slowing and hopefully stopping the bleeding." Looking back at the youngster, Devereaux had more to say. "If you feel any blood in your mouth at all, Aramis will stop so you can spit it out. Otherwise you'll be vomiting it up over in that chamber pot by your bedside."

"While Aramis is doing that Doctor," Athos said, "what will you be taking care of?"

"I have some herbs that I need to crush together which I feel will be most effective in this case," Devereaux finally deigned the men with a slight smile before he went to his medicine cabinet. "This is not the first time I've ever dealt with this issue."

"Uh," Porthos grabbed the doctor firmly by the arm, " _issue_?"

"Oh," Devereaux's dark brows shot up. Whispering, he glanced at the dark-skinned Musketeer. "Should I have said _Elemental_ instead?" Chuckling at the astonishment written clearly on Porthos' face, not to mention the other two men, Devereaux left their side.

"Seems like it's not such a secret as we thought," Athos watched the doctor walk away from them. "That is a man worth getting to know more about."

"As long as he helps d'Artagnan that's all I care about," Porthos said while watching Aramis pinching the whelp's nose. Seeing the boy struggling for breath, he encouraged him. "Breathe through your mouth, whelp." Satisfied when d'Artagan did as asked, Porthos sighed with relief.

"While this is being taken care of I will go see Treville," Athos gaze shifted from Aramis who nodded back at him and Porthos who just grunted. "I will be back, d'Artagnan." The boy weakly waved his hand at him which Athos wasn't quite sure was a gesture of farewell or a _getting rid of you_ gesture. Either way, he found his feet taking him swiftly out of the infirmary and heading to the captain's office.

 


	14. The Finale!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale, folks. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> ++++

_Captain Treville’s office_

Clearing his desk of anything not of great import, Treville was so intent on his job that he had not heard the knock on his door nor the opening of it. So when he lifted his head, Treville arched a brow as his lieutenant stood silently before him.

“I did knock, sir,” Athos told him quickly.

“If you have come to tell me that we can't risk d'Artagnan's life any longer,” Treville remarked as he looked at his lieutenant, “I already mentioned to King Louis what had transpired.”

“And?” Athos impatiently wondered what His Majesty had to say to that.

“For once the king is showing compassion,” Treville smiled. “I’m to commend the lad on our successful mission due to his ingenuity and to let d’Artagnan know that Louis understands.”

“Does the cardinal?”

“Non,” Treville shook his head. “Though Richelieu heard clearly enough I wouldn’t put it past him to use some underhanded method to get d’Artagnan to help him since the king made it crystal clear that the cardinal could not avail himself of Comte Babineaux's help in any way."   

“I'm quite sure that didn't go down well with the cardinal.” Athos was partly relieved but worried about what trouble His Eminence could still cause their youngest.

Laughing, Treville wiped the tears from his eyes. "I wish you could have seen Richelieu's face as it turned red as fire."

“Seeing the cardinal outwitted would have been a pleasure," Athos grinned. "I doubt he took the king's words well."

“Judging by the look on the cardinal’s face,” Treville snorted, “I believe he was holding back from saying something to His Majesty that would have sent Richelieu to the Bastille or worse.”

“And not to pray over some poor sod's soul either,” Athos snickered, relishing the thought that for once Richelieu wasn’t gaining the upper hand. “Still, I will worry over the cardinal's next move against d'Artagnan."

“I agree,” Treville frowned. “We’ll all just have to keep a closer eye on the boy,” he stood up and walked around his desk. “Speaking of d’Artagnan, how is he doing?”

“When I left the infirmary the doctor was going to mix something together that would help stop the boy losing anymore blood,” Athos had his head bent, fiddling with the rim of his hat, when he glanced upward he noticed the captain had his arms folded and was tapping a foot.

“It’s amazing you were able to tear yourself from the lad's side,” Treville stared at Athos until the other man sighed in resignation and put his hat back on. “Instead you couldn’t wait to inform me that the king could no longer count on our pup’s services as an Elemental.”

“I am that transparent?” Athos arched a brow.

"Where d'Artagnan is concerned you are," Treville clapped Athos on the back. "It just proves how compassionate you can be when it's warranted." Hearing the younger man's snort, Treville chuckled. "I know you like to hide your light under a wine barrel at times but you can't hide it from me."

"Would you care to come back with me to check on our young one?" Glancing back at his desk overflowing with reports, Treville knew they would still be there when he returned.

"Oui, I'd like to see how d'Artagnan is faring." Grabbing his hat off the rack, Treville followed Athos out the door.

_Outside the Infirmary_

As the two men walked up the stairs they didn't understand why Porthos and Aramis were standing outside the infirmary door along with Doctor Devereaux. All three of them gave the appearance of having eaten sour lemons.

"May I ask why all of you are out here and not inside with d'Artagnan?" Treville stabbed the doctor with a strange look. "Especially you Doctor Devereaux."

"His Eminence is inside," Porthos offered with a sideways look at Aramis. The latter had his arms folded as he leaned against the door, trying to eavesdrop the best he could.

"The Red Guards with the cardinal kicked us all out," Devereaux grumbled. "It's my infirmary and I get kicked out."

"Oh we'll see about that," Treville uttered in a powerful voice.

++++

_Inside the Infirmary_

"I don't care what King Louis' decree is in regard to you, boy!" Richelieu spat out. "I will continue to use your powers for the good of France."

"Why don't you speak the truth?" d'Artagnan said wearily. He still wasn't feeling all that well and now he had to deal with the cardinal on top of everything else.

"What do you mean by that?" Richelieu wouldn't put up with any backtalk from this child.

"You line your pockets while our people go hungry in their homes or in the street," d'Artagnan glared at him, not caring at this point what His Eminence threatened him with.

"Watch your tongue, lad," Richelieu slyly grinned. "With a snap of my fingers I could order it removed," he cackled. "After all, you don't need to speak to use your abilities, eh?"

"You are without a doubt an _evil_ man," d'Artagnan retorted. "You've already blackmailed me."

"Ah! So you do remember that," Richelieu walked around the young man's bed. "I started to think you had forgotten."

"That you'd tell everyone that I'm an Elemental," d'Artagnan grimaced. "Not very likely," he wished the man would leave him in peace. His chatter was making his head ache again. "You'd have me tried as a witch and His Majesty could lose his throne if it were ever discovered that he knew and harbored one."

"And I would follow through with it," Richelieu snickered. "France could benefit with a stronger monarch than it has now anyway." Seeing the child staring at him with those dark eyes of his, Richelieu started to feel slightly uncomfortable. "I do not care if you keep bleeding from your powers," he declared. "You will do my bidding whenever and however I see fit."

"His Majesty thinks otherwise," was the sardonic comment from the entranceway.

When Richelieu whirled around, he saw Captain Treville standing there, backed by the inseparables and the furious doctor he had kicked out. "Do you know something that I do not?" Richelieu stood his ground, snapping his fingers at his guards to step aside to let the others enter the room.

"For once, Cardinal," Treville was going to enjoy this part, "King Louis and I have kept something _secret_ from you."

This time Richelieu's uncomfortable feeling expanded at Treville's words. "What am I to deduce from that remark?"

"His Majesty and I have been fed up with your backdoor dealings all in the name of France," Treville scoffed. "The king had commissioned me with gathering as much evidence against you as I was able," his smile reached his eyes. "Imagine my surprise when I found out it wasn't that hard at all, and I also have signed confessions from those you involved in your plots."

"I don't believe you," Richelieu felt like his world was caving in on him for the captain seemed very sure of himself on this matter.

"Believe it, Cardinal," Treville's voice hardened. "Your days of lording it over your fellow man stops right here... right now!"

"Or else?" Richelieu now knew what a condemned man receiving his last meal had to look forward too.

"Why your trip to Rome would be secure as would your defrocking," Treville chuckled as he saw the way the cardinal's eyes nearly bulged out of his face. It wasn't pretty but it made his day. "Try to use d'Artagnan and his abilities in any way you will see how serious His Majesty and I are."

"If there really are such documents," Richelieu commented skeptically. "I still feel you are making this all up."

"The evidence is in a secure place that you will never find," Treville stepped forward until he was up close and personal in Richelieu's space. "If harm comes to the lad, myself or even the king, that evidence will find its way into the right hands."

"I will take this up with King Louis himself," Richelieu snapped his fingers again and brushed past Treville and the others with the Red Guard closely following behind.

"Was that all bluff, sir?" Aramis asked as he sat down on the edge of d'Artagnan's bed, while he idly played with the boy's foot that peeked out from under the covers.

"Non," Treville shook his head. "This is something King Louis and I had been working on ever since the cardinal made it clear to His Majesty and d'Artagnan what he would do if his demands weren't met."

"Aramis," d'Artagnan whined, "that tickles."

Grinning, Aramis stopped playing with the lad's foot. "That has to be the best news we could have ever heard," glancing at the pup Aramis cocked his head. "Right, pup?"

"Mmmmm," d'Artagnan nodded as he plucked at the blanket. Feeling eyes on him, he lifted his head up and encountered Athos' warm gaze.

"You are upset and rightly so on not being able to use your powers to help the betterment of France," Athos gripped the boy's shoulder lightly. "But I believe your sword arm to be more powerful than anything you could wield as an Elemental."

"Aye, whelp," Porthos grunted, "listen ta the man. He makes good sense."

"He usually does," Aramis agreed with a ready smile.

"Now that Cardinal Richelieu has left us," Doctor Devereaux stepped forward, "I think d'Artagnan could do with some well deserved rest."

"That's a polite way of telling us to leave," Treville snorted as he waved goodbye to the pup.

"Want me ta tell the doc we ain't ready ta go yet?" Porthos whispered in the younger man's ear. Seeing the sleepy-eyed look the whelp gave him, Porthos chuckled.

"I am a little tired," d'Artagnan yawned, sliding down lower into his bed.

"Before we go," Athos glanced at Aramis and Porthos, "I want to make sure you understand where we stand on how we feel about you."

"Huh?" d'Artagnan was tired but he wasn't sure where Athos was going with this.

"D'Artagnan," Athos huffed, "What I'm trying to say..."

"I can say it for you if you can't manage to articulate it," Aramis butted in, earning a kick in the shins from Porthos.

"Is," Athos shot a warning look at Aramis, "that you are our little brother and being such are in our hearts. When you hurt, we hurt."

"And we're tired of hurtin' watchin' ya get hurt," Porthos admitted.

"Besides, who wants to be an Elemental anyway," Aramis winked at the boy, pleased that d'Artagnan smiled back at him.

"Now that I have said that," Athos' voice lowered as he caught sight of Devereaux frowning at him, "we will leave you to your rest and will see you in the morn."

"Be well, pup," Aramis ruffled d'Artagnan's hair.

"Yeah, what Mis said," Porthos grinned and chucked the lad under the chin.

Bending low, Athos pressed a swift kiss on the surprised child's forehead.

Devereaux, watching them together, thought that one could be mistaken thinking Athos and d'Artagnan were related by blood. They had the same mannerism, similar ways of thinking, and as far as swordplay goes... well they were cut from the same cloth in that respect. From what Devereaux had gathered, in the time he had been working at the garrison,the only thing separating those two was the fact that the boy had an innocent heart whereas Athos' was tainted from a past filled with angst and chaos. But one doesn't have to be blood-tied to call another brother as he has witnessed. The child held Athos' heart in his hands and didn't even know it. Er, well, perhaps he did now from the older Musketeer's actions.

"Sleep well, boy," Athos gruffly said before departing.

Watching his friends leave d'Artagnan snuggled under the sheets, basking in the glow of his brother's love for him. Maybe d'Artagnan's future would turn out brighter than he ever thought possible.

The End

 


End file.
